ECCE  EEMINA; 


OB, 


THE  WOMAN  ZOE. 


| 


BY  CUTLER  PINE. 

re&** 


NEW    YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton    &   Co.,    Publishers. 

LONDON:   S.  LOW,   SON  &  CO., 
MDCCCLXXV. 


Entered  accordins  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

G.   W.   CARLETON   &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Jo«x  F.  Tuow  ft  Son,  PRINTERS, 
•05-213  EAST  i>TH  ST.,  NEW  YORK. 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

PAGB 

FAITH 7 


PART  II. 
RETRIBUTION 52 

PART  III. 
JUSTICE 72 


ECCE   FEMINA. 


PART  I. 

FAITH. 

JHERE  had  never  gone  up  to  the  rails 
of  a  chancel  for 'ordination  a  class  of 
candidates  more  highly  valued  by  the 
church  than  that  which  included  on  the  list  the 
name  of  Edwin  Clancy  Bowen.  They  were 
all  men  of  high  culture,  of  social  standing,  of 
unimpeachable  character.  It  was  to  them 
that  the  bishop  of  a  mammoth  diocese  had 
alluded  when  he  said  that  he  wished  he  might 
ordain  a  dozen  more  like  them.  Among  these 
shining  lights  the  said  Mr.  Bowen  was  regarded 


8  FAITH. 

as  the  most  promising  reinforcement  to  the 
church's  ministry  in  the  eyes  of  all  who  knew 
him,  as  well  as  by  his  special  friends ;  and 
when  the  prelate  addressed  the  hopeful  band 
of  recent  deacons,  on  whom  he  had  just  laid 
his  consecrating  hands,  there  was  more  than 
one  in  the  crowded  congregation  who  fancied 
that  his  eye  rested  on  the  gentleman  aforesaid 
in  a  manner  that  conferred  particular  distinc 
tion. 

From  the  hour  that  he  came  down  those 
aisles  a  stoled  and  surpliced  "priest,"  up  to 
the  fifth  year  of  his  ministry,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Bowen  had  gone  on  without  a  ripple.  He  was 
a  man  of  education,  of  fine  appearance,  of  good 
manners,  of  a  very  respectable  family.  His  con 
gregation  was  "strong."  He  had  charge  of 
the  chief  flock  in  a  city  of  wealthy  people. 
The  church  was  gothically  grand  and  well 
upholstered.  The  foremost  pews  garnered  the 
aristocracy  of  the  town,  and  the  rear  ones 
were  free  for  stray  publicans.  This  was  the 
church  to  the  erection  of  which  the  late  Gen 
eral  Horser  had  so  nobly  contributed.  Facing 
the  communion  table  was  the  grand  slab 


FAITH.  9 

erected  to  his  memory,  and  as  the  communi 
cants  descended  from  the  rails  they  were  con 
fronted  by  the  inscription  which  rehearsed  the 
general's  virtues,  and  by  the  big  revolver  in 
alto-relief  on  the  marble  were  reminded  of  the 
invaluable  service  he  had  done  the  world.  The 
adjoining  slab  was  vacant.  It  had  been  ap 
plied  for  by  a  man  who  would  have  paid  much 
to  have  his  own  insignia  cut  upon  it  in  a  shape 
not  much  unlike  a  bowie  knife,  but  he  had  not 
amassed  sufficient  millions  to  dignify  his  vulgar 
sculpture,  and  the  vestry  rejected  the  blazonry. 
The  slab  stood  vacant — and  still  waits  to  com 
memorate  the  inventor  of  that  perfection  in  war 
machinery  which  shall  blow  a  million  of  men 
at  once  to  atoms,  and  cancel  the  cannon  as  ut 
terly  as  the  cannon  extinguishes  the  fire 
cracker.  It  must  be  confessed  that  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Bowen  did  not  ascend  the  pulpit  to  find '•-, 
himself  confronted  by  the  glorification  of  a 
pistol  pn  the  sacred  walls,  without  a  little  winc 
ing  in  the  soul,  which  he  could  not  overcome 
the  first,  nor  the  second,  nor  yet  the  twentieth 
time.  But  he  was  too  thoroughly  a  man  of  the 
world  to  let  this  unpleasantness  appear,  and 


10  FAITH. 

his  sermons  were  most  undisturbedly  serene  in 
style  and  polished  in  delivery. 

We  have  called  the  son  of  the  church  a  man 
of  the  world.  It  is  no  anomaly.  True,  lie 
never  attended  theatres  or  balls,  and  had  re 
nounced  all  possible  secular  eminence  for  the 
pulpit ;  but  to  the  world,  so  far  as  the  chyrch 
indorsed  it,  he  stood  committed.  There  \vcre 
persons  in  his  congregation  who  had  become 
rich  by  questionable  means.  To  this  wealth, 
as  a  fact,  Mr.  Bowen  never  dreamed  of  taking 
exception.  They  were  mostly  Christians — 
their  salvation  was  tolerably  certain — these  lit 
tle  matters  were  between  themselves  and  God. 
Mr.  Bowen  drew  his  large  salary,  lived  in  his 
handsome  house,  and  moved  gracefully  about 
the  chancel,  as  well  as  the  drawing-rooms  of  his 
parishioners,  undisturbed.  Certain  enthusi 
asms  appeared  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  min 
istry,  involving  a  free  translation  of  the  rubrics. 
It  was  rumored  that  he  observed  extra  fasts, 
that  he  wore  hair-cloth  shirts,  and  that  he  ap 
proved  of  flowers  on  the  altar.  An  Ash-Wed 
nesday  swoon  strengthened  the  impression  of 
asceticism,  and  the  introduction  of  choir  boys 


FAITH.  1 1 

went  to  confirm  his  Ritualistic  tendencies. 
When  he  had  reached  his  twenty-eighth  year, 
and  was  still  unmarried,  it  was  positively  said 
that  he  favored  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  and 
this  rumor  added  romance  to  the  interest  which 
the  ladies  of  the  congregation  felt  in  his  char 
acter. 

'  Mr.  Bovven  did,  in  truth,  find  himself  grow 
ing  fond  of  the  doctrine,  among  the  other  High 
Church  dogmas.  He  determined,  when  fully 
prepared,  to  advocate  it  openly,  and  had  ap 
pointed  with  himself  the  first  Sunday  of  the 
coming  September  for  public  defence  of  the 
principle.  This  postponement  was  a  necessary 
one,  because  it  was  early  summer,  and  the 
congregation  would  be  out  of  town,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  poor  people,  for  whom  it 
was  not  worth  while  to  keep  open  the  church. 
Also  he  was  going  to  recruit  at  a  fashionable 
summer  resort,  where  the  waters  were  cele 
brated.  September,  at  soonest,  should  be  the 
time,  and  during  the  summer  he  could  prepare 
a  series  of  sermons  to  advocate  his  views,  to 
which  he  would  devote  his  leisure  through  the 
pleasant  season. 


12  FAITH. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Mr.  Bowen's  consistency 
that  he  waited. 

At  this  watering  place  he  found  himself 
among  the  lions.  Added  to  his  reputation  for 
learning  and  sanctity,  added  to  his  very  gen 
teel  connections,  and  added  to  his  possession 
of  a  large  income,  and  his  adoption  of  a  re 
spectable  profession  in  a  church  almost  dead 
with  respectability,  were  many  qualities  which 
led  all  his  female  acquaintances  to  regret  the 
loss  of  such  a  man  to  the  gay  circles  of  the 
world.  He  was  much  admired  everywhere. 
He  was  tall,  he  had  fine  eyes,  his  head  was 
Apollo-like,  his  dress  was  Brummelish,  and 
his  figure  discovered  elegancies  in  keeping  with 
the  rest.  No  stranger  who  saw  him  on  the 
way  to  take  his  early  draught  at  the  springs, 
with  an  easy  stagey  stride,  a  swinging  short 
cloak,  and  a  jaunty  cap,  took  him  for  a  clergy 
man,  for,  unlike  his  brethren  in  that  political 
division  of  the  church  to  which  he  belonged, 
he  avoided  everything  that  smacked  of  the 
cloth.  As  he  was  never  seen  at  hop  or  ball, 
and  could  not  touch  a  billiard  cue  or  anything 
less  innocent  than  a  croquet  mallet,  he  was  lio- 


FAITH.  13 

nized  in  private  parlors  and  on  hotel  piazzas, 
but  he  was  none  the  less  a  lion  for  being 
caged. 

It  was  on  the  seventh  day  of  his  arrival  at 
the  Springs  that  Mr.  Bowen  met  her. 

Her  !  He  had  often  heard  of  her — the  lovely 
young  widow — Mrs.  Mar.  Yet  her  reputation 
as  a  stunning  beauty,  a  late  sensation,  a  m£g- 
nificent  belle,  had  not  prepared  him  for  what 
he  was  to  meet.  He  had  not  sought  the  ac 
quaintance.  It  came  upon  him  unawares. 
He  had  heard  that  this  dashing  and  enchant 
ing  creature  was  heterodox,  if  not  an  open 
unbeliever,  and  it  was  so  unnatural  that  she 
should  be  found  among  his  special  clique  that 
he  had  scarcely  thought  of  her  at  all.  It  hap 
pened  at  the  close  of.  service  one  Sunday 
afternoon.  A  great  thunder-storm  was  at  its 
height,  and  groups  of  anxious  ladies  were 
gathered  near  the  church  doors,  waiting  for 
cloaks  and  umbrellas.  As  Mr.  Bowen  was 
there  exchanging  comments  on  the  weather, 
his  friend,  Mr.  Heyward,  prepared  him  for  an 
introduction,  and  he  looked  down  at — well, 
the  latest  thing  in  sweet  faces.  The  woman 


14  FAITH. 

was  a  dazzling  blonde.  One  would  hardly 
notice  the  whiteness  of  her  complexion,  for 
there  was  no  contrast.  Her  hair  and  eyebrows 
were  many  shades  lighter  than  gold.  The 
eyebrows  were  less  than  an  arch  and  more 
than  a  curve,  and  the  eyes,  deep-set,  full  and 
very  light  blue,  had  lashes  that  bent  slightly 
upward.  Her  mouth  drooped  a  little  at.  the 
corners,  and  every  changing  expression  \vus 
fascination  indeed.  Her  retirement  of  man 
ner  did  not  prepare  Mr.  Bowen  for  her  name. 
This  graceful,  shrinking  creature,  just  emerged 
from  girlhood,  was  Mrs.  Mar.  Her  face, 
though  very  beautiful,  differing  from  his  ideal, 
was  not  the  face  he  liked.  For  the  rest  he 
immediately  took  exception.  As  she  went  off 
she  was  too  airish.  There  was  a  disposition 
to  exaggerate  the  fashion  in  her  dress,  for  even 
though  the  dress  was  black  it  was  copiously 
trimmed,  and  there  was  a  goodly  sprinkling 
of  pearls  and  diamonds  on  her  hands,  and  in 
her  cars  below  the  widow's  cap.  And  earrings 
were  a  down-right  barbarism.  They  reminded 
him  always  of  South  Sea  Islanders.  The 
clergyman  did  not  take  to  her. 


FAITH.  15 

"  Why  did  you  not  ask  her  permission  to 
introduce  me?"  he  said  to  Heyward.  "I 
think  she  seemed  a  little  displeased." 

"  Her  permission,"  rejoined  Heyward. 
"  She  requested  me  to  introduce  you — been 
dying  for  your  acquaintance,  I  hear,  ever  since 
she  first  saw  you  here.  ~More  interested  than  in 
any  man  she  has  seen  on  this  side  the  Atlantic." 

Bowen  ignored  this  assertion  except  that 
his  eyes  were  a  little  supercilious.  "  Is  she  a 
European  importation  ?  "  he  asked. 

"She  has  been  abroad  for  awhile.  Her 
husband  died  in  Europe.  No,  she  is  an 
American.  She  never  was  heard  of  till  her 
marriage — was  poor  once,  and  so  a  nobody. 
How  do  you  like  her  ?  She's  a  terrible  here 
tic.  You  could  not  employ  the  season  here 
better  than  by  converting  her." 

"  Isn't  she  all  the  time  at  balls  ?  " 

"  She  is  beginning  to  go.  She  will  be  at 
the  great  hop  next  week.  Mrs.  Rox  and  she. 
are  getting  up  some  half  mourning  rigs  for 
the  occasion." 

It  seemed  that  chance  threw  the  lady  per 
petually  in  the  clergyman's  way.  There  were 


16  FAITH. 

relatives  of  her  late  husband  at  the  Springs, 
\\\\\\  many  of  whom  Mr.  Bowen  was  ac 
quainted.  He  met  her  at  one  dinner,  and  at 
three  evening  gatherings,  and  encountered  her 
frequently  about  the  place.  He  still  did  not 
fancy  her.  That  way  she  had  of  shrinking 
back  and  lifting  those  great  eyes  under  their 
lids  and  saying  nothing — it  was  a  mannerism 
which  he  disliked.  She  hugged  a  great  dog 
of  Col.'Rox's  one  day  on  the  hotel  piazza  very 
absurdly,  and  did  many  little  things  that  were 
objectionable.  The  best  manner  was  strictly 
negative — nature — no  manner  at  all — so  had 
decreed  the  authorities ;  ergo,  Mrs.  Mar's  man 
ner  was  bad.  It  was  unnatural  and  affected. 
After  a  little  he  withdrew  the  charge  of  affec 
tation,  but  his  disapprobation  still  remained. 
Their  conversation  on  those  rare  occasions 
when  they  did  converse,  was  strictly  general ; 
but  those  of  the  ladies  who  had  leisure  to  ob 
serve  the  quiet  by-ways  of  the^vatering-place, 
noted  in  Mrs.  Mar  a  growing  distaste  for  the 
gayer  side  of  life  at  that  resort.  She  actually 
began  to  go  to  church  and  manifested  interest 
in  altar  trimmings  and  laced  surplices. 


FAITH.  17 

The  night  of  the  great  hop  had  arrived. 
Mr.  Bowen  on  his  way  to  a  quiet  and  informal 
supper  with  Col.  and  Mrs.  Rox  thought  of 
the  fair  young  widow  among  the  gay  throng 
at  the  ball-room.  He  had  been  seriously  re 
volving  Mr.  Heyward's  suggestion  and  contem 
plating  the  gathering  in  of  this  stray  sheep 
to  the  fold  of  the  true  church.  Of  success, 
should  he  undertake  it,  he  doubted  not--the 
only  question  was  the  time.  If  it  required  all 
the  time  he  could  spare  from  his  sermons 
on  celibacy  it  would  be  worth  the  cost.  He 
considered  her  wealth,  influence  and  position, 
and  as  in  seeking  the  aggrandisement  of  his 
church  he  fell  scarcely  below  the  proverbial 
devotion  of  a  Roman  Catholic  priest,  he  de 
cided  to  devote  himself  to  the  task. 

With  these  meditations  he  reached  the  cot 
tage  of  his  friend,  Col.  Rox,  when  to  his  sur 
prise  the  lady  whom  he  had  half  unconsciously 
been  imagining  in  gauzy  toilette  and  flashing 
jewels,  whirling  about  at  the  hop,  stood  before 
him  in  simple  dark  dress  without  ornaments 
settled  as  the  guest  of  Mrs.  Rox.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  how  much  he  had  been  think- 


1 


1 8  FAITH. 

ing  of  her.  But  as  Mrs.  Rox  was  her  late 
husband's  sister  her  presence  there  was  expli 
cable.  He  observed  her  all  the  evening  from 
a  distance. 

There  were  bouquets  to  tie  up  for  a  fair  on 
the  following  day,  and  after  supper  the  ladies 
tied  these  bouquets.  As  there  were  several 
bushels  of  cut  flowers  this  took  a  long  time. 
The  clergyman  at  the  solicitation  of  his  hostess 
had  read  a  selection  from  Tennyson's  Maud  to 
the  ladies  and  then  his  attentions  in  Mrs.  Mar's 
vicinity  ceased.  He  did  not  even  look  at  her 
for  some  time,  and  the  lady  in  spite  of  her 
efforts  grew  pensive  and  silent.  Her  fingers 
listlessly  continued  their  employment,  but  her 
eyes  from  time  to  time  reverted  to  Bowen,  who 
was  in  the  doorway  talking  to  the  Colonel. 
He  was  just  going  apparently,  for  he  was  get 
ting  ready  his  street  cigar,  and  his  cloak  hung 
on  one  shoulder.  Mrs.  Rox  said  in  a  low  tone 
to  her  sister-in-law  :  "  Make  him  a  bouquet, 
Zoe  ;  he  likes  violets." 

Mrs.  Mar  picked  up  a  few  stray  violets  and 
fallen  leaves,  and  fastened  them  in  a  little  knot. 
11  He's  not  coming  this  way,"  she  demurred. 


FAITH.  .  19 

"Throw  them  to  him,"  urged  Mrs.  Rox. 

"Would  you?"  hesitated  Mrs.  Mar.  She 
lopked  up.  Bowen  still  stood  beside  Col.  Rox, 
very  tall  in  that  doorway,  very  handsome  in 
that  light,  and  utterly  irresistible  in  such  an  ir 
religious  looking  neck-tie.  The  little  bunch 
of  violets  sailed  over  the  lamp  to  the  doorway, 
but  instead  of  dropping  at  the  clergyman's 
feet  as  Mrs.  Mar  had  intended,  it  struck  him 
full  on  the  heart  and  fell  to  the  floor. 

Mr.  Bowen  looked  toward  the  group  at  the 
table.  His  eyes  rested  on  Mrs.  Mar  very 
keenly,  and  her  color  rose  high  before  they 
were  withdrawn.  He  picked  up  the  violets 
without  remark,  said  good  evening,  and  car 
ried  them  off  in  his  button-hole. 

The  next  day  he  asked  his  friend  Heyvvard 
to  call  with  him  on  Mrs.  Mar,  and  confided  to 
the  said  Heyward  his  intention  to  begin  in 
earnest  to  bring  the  fair  heretic  into  the 
church. 

"  Good  !  "  commended  the  layman.  "  I'll 
do  what  I  can  to  aid  the  consummation.  I'll 
advise  her  to  get  up  some  canonicals — have 
her  interested  at  once." 


20  FAITH. 

"Pshaw!  canonicals!  Nothing  personal." 
Mr.  Bowen  proceeded  to  explain  that  he  ob 
jected  to  the  personalities  and  indeed  felt  some 
hesitation  in  attempting  the  conversation  at 
all,  lest  she  or  some  one  else  might  misinter 
pret  his  attentions.  Religious  attentions  were 
the  only  kind  he  desired  to  pay.  He  wished 
that  there  were  some  way  of  informing  Mrs. 
Mar  that  he  was  not  a  candidate  for  matrimony, 
lest  she  should  mistake  him. 

"There's  no  necessity," said  Heyward  coolly, 
"  Mrs.  Mar  has  objections  to  marrying  a 
clergyman." 

"  Has  what  ?  "  demanded  Bowen.  "  When 
did  she  tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  Only  to-day.  We  happened  to  be  speak 
ing  about  it.  Now  I  think  of  it,  we  were  talk 
ing  of  you.  I  mentioned  that  you  advo 
cate  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy." 

"  I  am  not  committed  on  that  point,"  said 
Bowen,  a  little  nettled. 

"Indeed!  You  are  drifting  there  at  all 
events." 

"I  doubt  if  I  am  now.  The  church  has 
been  too  much  a  gleaner  after  Rome.  Let  us 


FAITH.  21 

sail  a  course  of  our  own — not  follow  in  the 
wake  of  slave  ships." 

Heyward  actually  stared. 

"Well,  at  all  events,  I  told  Mrs.  Mar  that 
such  were  your  views.  I  said  you  would  ex 
press  yourself  publicly  yet — that  the  church 
had  no  headlong  way  of  doing  anything.  She 
agreed  with  you  that  the  clergy  should  not 
marry — said  for  her  own  part  a  clergyman  was 
the  last  one  she  should  marry." 

"  What  reason  did  she  give  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — that's  all  she  said." 

"  She  may  never  be  reduced  to  the  neces 
sity,"  said  Bowen.  "  A  rich  young  widow 
as  handsome  as  she  is,  can  find  suitors  enough 
in  the  world  without  thinking  of  the  clergy." 

"  Her  suitors  will  have  to  be  more  disinter 
ested  than  you  imagine.  The  man  who  mar 
ries  Mrs.  Mar  will  not  marry  a  rich  widow. 
Mr.  Mar  provided  for  that.  When  she  mar 
ries  again  she  loses  her  house  in  Fifth  Avenue 
and  her  income.  Everything  goes  to  her  rela 
tives — Mrs.  Rox  and  Miss  Emily  Mar,  and 
some  nephews  and  nieces." 

In  Mr.   Bowen's  mind  the  probabilities  of 


22  FAITH. 

Mrs.  Mar  marrying  again  were  much  reduced. 
He  was  more  than  ever  resolved  to  undertake 
her  conversion.  It  would  be  a  grand  thing 
for  the  church.  Always  a  single  woman,  no 
domestic  ties  could  take  her  from  the  things 
of  the  Lord,  and  with  her  wealth  she  could 
have  immense  effect  in  churchly  work.  What 
an  aid  she  would  be  in  his  own  parish  at  N —  ! 
And  the  attack  was  begun  in  earnest.  That 
day  he  called  with  Mr.  Hey  ward,  and  the  day 
following  without  him.  Mrs.  Mar  treated  the 
advance  with  a  sort  of  mock  seriousness  at  first, 
but  she  had  to  deal  with  a  skilful  engineer, 
who  was  morever  in  deadly  earnest.  Grave 
conversation  was  very  becoming  to  Mr.  Bowen, 
and  she  had  to  own  very  refreshing  after  the 
small  talk  of  mere  ball-room  cavaliers.  He 
discovered  almost  immediately  that  with  all 
her  worldlincss  and  gayety  Mrs.  Mar  was  un 
happy,  and  that  she  would  like  to  lead  a  higher 
life — indeed  a  useful  one.  Religiously  she 
was  quite  unsettled.  As  a  first  objection  to 
his  creed  she  advanced  the  doctrine  of  hell, 
which  she  felt  unable  to  reconcile  with  the 
goodness  of  God.  IJowen  seemed  quite  as 


FAITH.  23 

much  astonished  as  though  he  had  never  heard 
of  such  a  place  in  his  life,  and  answered,  that 
that  was  not  a  matter  that  need  trouble  any 
Christian.  Zoe  thought  that  a  lake  of  fire  pre 
pared  to  consume  more  than  half  the  human 
family  was  not  a  thing  of  so  small  account. 
Mr.  Bowen  said  theologians  differed.  It  was 
probably  not  a  fire  like  the  flames  of  earth — 
fire  was  a  figurative  expression,  etc.  He 
seemed  a  little  jovial  on  the  subject.  Mrs. 
Mar  being  still  unable  to  reconcile  divine  good 
ness  with  the  eternal  misery  of  a  single  soul, 
Mr.  Bowen  finally  said  it  was  a  mystery  !  She 
must  not  expect  to  understand  everything — 
hardly  anything.  She  could  not  tell  how  a 
blade  of  grass  grew,  etc. 

There  the  point  rested.  Mr  Bowen  gained 
her  promise  not  to  look  again  at  a  mass  of 
Unitarian  literature  on  her  bookshelves,  and 
captured  the  discourses  of  Theodore  Parker, 
which  were  too  dangerous  to  be  trusted  within 
reach.  In  place  of  them  he  left  a  prayer-book, 
and  Mrs.  Mar  promised  to  study  the  liturgy. 
She  knew  nothing  of  the  Episcopal  Church  and 


24  FAITH. 

conceded  that  it  had  a  right  to  be  heard.     She 
was  quite  open  in  conviction. 

Aware  of  the  rapidity  with  which  such  con 
viction  often  settles  in  the  female  mind,  Mr. 
Bowen  was  surprised  to  find  that  this  conver 
sion  occupied  nearly  all  the  term  of  his  stay. 
But  success  was  an  accomplished  fact.  The 
lovely  Mrs.  Mar  went  from  the  Springs  to  New 
York,  her  heresies  cast  off"  with  her  black 
dresses,  in  full  communion  with  the  church  of 
churches,  her  wealth  leaking  into  its  continu 
ally  yawning  coffers,  her  good  deeds  multiply 
ing  over  the  columns  of  its  weekly  press,  and 
the  ladies  of  her  household  agitated  with  every 
Ritualistic  vagary,  old  and  new. 

With  Bowen's  return  to  town  the  old  routine 
of  sermonizing  and  catechizing  bored  him  ter 
ribly.  It  was  far  pleasanter  to  be  making 
telling  conversions  and  getting  people  inter 
ested  in  the  church.  He  had  reconsidered 
his  views  of  clerical  celibacy  and  Othello's 
occupation  was  gone.  No  other  theme  pos 
sessed  sufficient  interest.  Sunday  passed  with 
its  irksome  duties,  he  spent  nearly  all  Monday 
inditing  an  epistle  to  Mrs.  Mar,  and  by  Tues- 


FAITH.  25 

day  he  had  resolved  on  going  to  New  York  to 
see  her.  While  packing  his  valise  he  studied 
out  the  solution  of  his  sudden  distaste  for  his 
duties  and  set  it  all  down  to  his  absolute  need 
of  an  assistant.  Not  a  man — some  woman 
like  Zoe  Mar.  There  were  women  enough  in 
the  parish  but  not  one  like  her.  He  had  felt 
it  a*ll  Sunday.  There  was  something  lacking 
in  that  glowing  communion  service.  He  had 
missed  the  spotted  veils  and  the  diamonds  and 
crosses  and  late  styles  at  the  chancel  with  an  au 
riferous  head  bent  over  the  rails.  He  criticised 
every  one  impatiently.  Ah  !  he  could  never 
do  without  her.  She  would  be  a  queen  in  his 
parish  at  N — .  And  so  he  was  off  for  town  on 
Tuesday,  and  before  Tuesday  closed  he  saw  her. 
She  resided  in  the  house  of  her  late  hus 
band,  at  that  time  well  up  town.  Mr.  Bowen 
knew  that  an  aged  aunt  lived  with  her,  and 
that  the  Roxes  were  her  guests  for  the  winter 
but  he  did  not  care  to  see  them,  and  made  his 
inquiry  accordingly.  She  soon  came  and 
Bowcn's  whole  soul  was  in  his  eyes  at  the  re 
union.  Mrs.  Mar  was  extremely  gorgeous  in  a 
trailing  pink  silk  ruffled  to  the  waist.  The 


26  FAITH. 

laces  were  soft  and  the  crosses  resplendent. 
Mr.  Bowen  disliked  pink  and  detested  trails, 
but  suddenly  both  became  enchanting.  After 
a  little  he  made  known  the  object  of  his  call. 
He  reminded  Mrs.  Mar  that  she  was  untram- 
meled  by  ties  of  any  kind,  and  he  proposed 
that  she  should  become  his  parishioner  at  N — 
and  leave  town  at  once  for  a  residence  there. 
He  would  introduce  her  among  the  strong 
church  people  and  she  would  find  it  a  grand 
field  for  her  energies  and  devotion. 

The  fair  eyebrows  arched  piquantly.  She 
laughed. 

"  Take  the  house  with  me,  Mr.  Bowen  ?  " 

"  No — leave  the  house  to  your  friends  here 
and  come  to  N —  for  the  winter." 

Mrs.  Mar  looked  at  him  as  though  just 
admitting  that  he  might  be  in  earnest. 
"  Alone  ?  and  what  would  the  world  say  to  a 
proceeding  so  unaccountable  ?" 

Bowen  declared  the  world  to  be  of  no  con 
sequence  whatever.  The  last  thing  he  should 
expect  a  woman  like  her  to  regard  was  the 
world !  But  she  need  not  come  alone.  Her 
aunt  might  come  with  her. 


FAITH.  27 

Mrs.  Mar  shook  her  head*.  She  said,  grow 
ing  very  pale  at  the  same  time,  that  it  gave 
her  great  pain  to  refuse  this  request,  or  any 
request  of  Mr.  Bowen's.  She  did  not  like 
N —  as  a  residence,  neither  did  her  aunt.  She 
had  lived  there  once,  and  the  place  was  the 
scene  of  many  trials  and  privations.  It  was 
closely  associated  with  a  girlhood  of  poverty 
and  sorrow.  She  had  forsworn  the  place  for 
ever. 

Mr.  Bowen  asked  if  she  would  never  recon 
sider  that  determination.  Mrs.  Mar  said  with 
great  decision  that  she  could  never  go  to  N — 
to  live,  and  in  addition  to  the  reason  she  had 
given  there  was  another  that  she  could  not  give. 

Mr.  Bowen  felt  very  unhappy  at  this  conclu 
sion.  Mrs.  Mar  made  some  very  polite 
inquiries  relating  to  his  parish,  and  after  walk 
ing  about  the  room  in  an  absent  way  he 
replied  that  he  detested  the  place  as  much  as 
she  did.  At  her  request  he  remained  to  dinner 
at  six  o'clock,  when  he  met  the  three  ladies  of 
the  family  and  Col.  Rox.  After  dinner  Col. 
Rox  invited  Mr.  Bowen  to  Mrs.  Mar's  studio. 
He  was  quite  surprised  to  learn  that  she  was  a 


28  FAITH. 

sculptor,  and  went  from  one  model  to  another 
divided  between  his  admiration  of  her  excel 
lence  in  that  art  and  his  doubts  whether  it  was 
exactly  the  thing  for  a  woman  to  do.  It  was 
among  the  unfeminine  arts,  and  clashed  with 
the  very  rudiments  of  his  conservative  educa 
tion.  Mrs.  Mar  interrupted  him  while  examin 
ing  some  unfinished  grape  leaves  round  the 
brow  of  the  god  Bacchus  to  invite  him  to 
accompany  the  ladies  to  an  evening  mission 
ary  meeting.  He  did  not  leave  town  that 
night,  but  remained  to  go  to  matins  with  Mrs. 
Mar  the  next  morning  at  7  A.  M. 

The  next  week  the  General  Convention  was 
to  bring  him  to  town  among  the  clerical  dele 
gates.  The  interim  seemed  almost  intolerable. 
Never  had  he  been  so  annoyed  at  the  stub 
bornness  of  the  chief  warden — never  so  out 
raged  by  the  dictations  of  the  vestrymen. 
Never  had  the  revolver  opposite  the  cross 
seemed  so  utterly  disgusting.  It  was  an 
unspeakable  relief  to  get  off  to  the  Convention, 
where  he  could  meet  his  more  congenial 
brethern  in  the  church  and  be  solaced  with 
the  smiles  of  Mrs.  Mar. 


FAITH.  29 

It  was  on  the  second  day  of  the  sitting  of 
this  Convention  that  Mr.  Bowen  was  surprised 
by  the  offer  of  the  place  of  assistant  minister 
in  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  town.  The 
salary  was  lower  by  $  1,000  than  the  one  he 
was  then  receiving — the  dwelling  allotted  him 
was  less  commodious  than  his  house  at  N — , 
and  farther  than  that,  he  would  have  a  master. 
But  it  was  in  New  York,  near  Zoe  Mar — there 
was  a  chance  for  him  to  succeed  to  the  rector 
ship — as  to  the  masters,  where  he  was  he  had 
eight,  and  his  prospective  ruler  he  knew  and 
liked.  Mr.  Bowen  did  not  hesitate  an  instant. 

In  the  evening  he  hied  to  the  Convention, 
and  during  the  balloting  sought  out  his  fair 
friend  in  the  gallery.  He  was  a  little  flushed, 
partly  with  excitement,  partly  with  wine,  for 
he  had  just  come  from  the  dinner- table  of  the 
rector  whose  assistant  No.  3  he  was  about  to 
become.  Mrs.  Mar's  white  veil  was  thrown 
back,  and  her  face  appeared  very  girlish  and 
innocent  between  its  pendant  crosses.  He  sat 
down  behind  her,  hat  in  hand,  and  told  her 
that  he  should  leave  N —  for  New  York  the 
next  fortnight. 


30  FAITH. 

"  Leave  your  parish,  Mr.  Bowen  !  "  She 
looked  amazed. 

"There  is  a  vacancy  in  town,  here.  Dr. 
McEachirn  wants  me  as  assistant  at  the  Cruci 
fixion." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  sparkle  in  her 
eyes.  She  said  very  warmly  that  it  would  be 
perfectly  splendid. 

"  You  will  not  find  me  backward  now  in 
your  service,"  she  went  on.  "  I  was  so  sorry 
to  refuse  you  last  week  and  to  withhold  the 
reason.  Mysteries  are  so  hateful  between 
friends.  I  shall  go  down  and  rent  a  pew  at 
the  Crucifixion  at  once — to-morrow.  How 
soon  will  you  come  ?  Sunday  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  might  say  yes.  I  would  like  to 
telegraph  my  farewell  to  N —  to-morrow,  and 

"** 

never  go  back.  But  it  won't  be  right  to  leave 
precipitately.  I  shall  wait  till  a  week  from 
Sunday." 

She  looked  down  and  fidgetted  with  her  fan. 
Bowen's  voice  was  a  little  lowered  and  his  hat 
shielded  his  face  from  the  observers  in  the 
aisle  as  the  next  words  were  spoken.  "  I  am 
anxious  to  ask  you  Mrs.  Mar,  whether  a  friend 


FAITH.  31 

of  mine  was  mistaken  in  your  meaning  when 
he  gave  it  as  a  statement  of  yours  that  you 
would  never  marry  a  clergyman  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mar  flushed  and  grew  pale.  She 
seemed  sad/ and  her  lip  quivered.  Then  she 
replied.  "  I  did  say  so." 

"  Do  you  mean  "to  tell  me  that  your  objec 
tions  still  exist  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Bowen — they  will  always  exist."1 

Mr.  Bowen  had  changed  his  parish,  but  was 
not  resigned  to  change  his  profession.  He 
said  very  nervously  :  "  But  good  God  !  what 
ails  us  ?  Look  at  us  below  there  !  "  and  he 
glanced  at  the  procession  toward  the  ballot 
boxes.  "  Is  there  a  finer  body  of  men  in  the 
country  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  reason." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  ?  For  heaven's  sake  let 
there  be  no  such  a  mystery  between  us.  I 
thought  we  were  sworn  friends." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Zoe,  turning  impul 
sively.  "  I  object  because  the  clergy  are  so 
far  above  me  !  My  objections  are  found  in 
their  superior  goodness — their  exalted  and  sin 
less  lives — their  universal  and  surprising  free- 


32  FAITH. 

dom  from  even  petty  faults !     Marry  among 
the  clergy!    I   should   as   soon   clrcam,    Mr. 
Bowen,    of   marrying   among   the    angels   of 
God." 

Mr.  Bowen's  face,  if  she  had  dared  to  look 
at  it,  was  a  study  on  this  declaration.  He  felt 
that  the  illusion  was  one  not  impossible  to 
cure.  But  he  only  said,  "  Bless  your  inno 
cence,"  and  came  to  order  with  the  rest  of  the 
house. 

He  gave  her  his  arm  at  the  door.  It  was 
easier  to  say  the  rest  under  the  street  lamps 
than  beneath  the  blaze  of  church  gas.  Un 
daunted  by  her  objections  to  the  clergy,  Bowcn 
declared  himself  unequivocally.  She  heard 
him  through  and  answered  at  last : 

"You  ask  what  I  must  never  dream  of. 
There  is  a  great  gulf  between  us — impassable. 
I  can  be  your  faithful  servant  and  such  you 
will  find  me.  I  can  be  nothing  else." 

Mr.  Bowen  felt  the  decision  of  this  reply. 
He  left  her  with  a.  simple  good-night,  and  she 
was  in  doubt  whether  he  was  sorry  or  indig 
nant.  This  doubt  cost  her  anxious  hours  all 
that  dreary  week,  but  was  relieved  when  after 


FAITH.  33 

the  Sunday  had  passed  Mr.  Bowen  appeared 
at  her  door  just  after  his  arrival  in  town  on  the 
scene  of  his  new  duties. 

From  that  day  forward  Mrs.  Mar  was  his 
right  hand  assistant.  She  was  at  church  in  all 
weathers,  at  all  seasons,  at  all  times  of  the  day. 
Never  officious  but  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  she 
was  always  ready  to  obey  Bowen's  dictation  at 
a  moment's  notice.  She  was  quite  used  to  be 
summoned  from  her  prayers  before  the  altar  to 
some  conclave  of  women  or  clergymen  in  the 
vestry-room  who  wanted  her  advice  or  her  ser 
vices.  With  Bowen  she  was  brought  in  daily, 
sometimes  hourly  contact,  and  the  man's  in 
fatuation  deepened  consequently. 

One  evening  during  one  of  their  interviews, 
for  the  family  seemed  to  give  them  a  tacit  rec 
ognition  as  lovers  and  left  them  alone,  Bowen 
asked  Zoe  to  answer  seriously  whether  she 
loved  him. 

She  looked  up  and  said  pointedly,  "Too 
well  to  marry  you." 

Bowen  pronounced  it  devilish  odd.  Zoe  was 
surprised  that  he  trod  so  near  the  verge  of  pro 
fanity,  and  the  clergyman  repeated  his  judg- 


34  FAITH. 

ment  to  himself  all  the  way  home,  and  was 
absolutely  tempted  to  set  it  down  to  love  of 
money  rather  than  of  him,  and  declared,  much 
nettled,  that  she  was  a  mercenary  creature. 

At  all  events  it  was  some  satisfaction  to  know 
that  the  objections  to  him  applied  to  every 
other  man,  especially  every  other  clergyman, 
and  her  heart  might  remain  forever  his  prop 
erty  in  the  same  negative  way. 

A  crisis  in  this  love  affair  was  reached  in 
Lent.  It  was  during  the  first  days  of  that  sad 
colored  season.  The  shades  of  the  ladies' 
dresses  at  morning  service  were  a  reflection  of 
the  purple  hangings  on  the  altar,  and  as  many 
as  three  male  communicants  appeared  in  violet 
neckties  and  amethyst  studs.  The  clergy  them 
selves  were  less  religious,  for  the  ladies  noted 
over  their  prayer-books  that  Mr.  Bowen,  who 
had  followed  Dr.  McEachirn  with  the  cup, 
came  out  of  the  church  with  a  spotted  cravat 
under  his  falling  collar,  and  though  concealed 
with  a  surplice  while  behind  the  chancel  rails, 
it  denoted  irreverence.  This  was  a  little  thing 
against  Mr.  Bowen,  as  his  gallantry  to  the  wid 
ows  in  the  congregation  was  a  great  thing. 


FAITH.  35 

Mr'.  Bowen,  for  his  part,  passed  down  the  aisle 
between  the  rows  of  purple  skirts  sticking  from 
the  open  pew-doors,  and  despised  ostentation 
from  his  very  soul.  He  then  went  up  town  as 
usual  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mar.  All  the  way 
up  Mr.  Bowen's  contempt  for  church  colors  in 
crinoline  and  waistcoats  was  supreme.  When 
he  reached  the  house  he  found  mauve  covers 
on  the  chairs  and  sofas.  Screen  and  footstools 
were  embroidered  with  bunches  of  lilacs  and 
violets.  There  were  globes  of  purple  glass  on 
the  chandliers,  and  the  window  curtains  reflected 
the  same  sombre  hue.  When  Zoe  came  down 
she  was  in  lavender  silk,  and  crosses  of  cedar- 
wood  were  her  ornaments.  At  dinner  there  it 
was  again  in  the  table-cloth  and  finger  glasses. 
Mr".  Bowen  was  gradually  reconciled  to  so 
much  High  Church  upholstery  and  Ritualistic 
embroidery,  but  he  told  the  ladies  how  much 
he  had  disliked  it  in  the  pews.  Mrs.  Mar  said 
she  would  not  presume  to  defend  what  one  of 
her  pastors  condemned,  nor  did  she  suppose 
that  there  was  any  vital  religion  in  the  color  of 
one's  velvets,  but  these  things  belonged  to  reli 
gion  among  the  respectable  people  whom  she 


36  FAITH. 

knew,  and  she  was  only  following  the  fashion. 
It  was  certainly  no  worse  to  follow  the  fashions 
of  the  church  than  those  of  the  world. 

Mr.  Bowen  found  in  the  alterations  sufficient 
explanation  of  Mrs.  Mar's  absence  from  church 
that  morning.  It  was  true,  Zoe  acknowledged, 
that  she  had  been  up  half  the  night  completing 
arrangements.  However  at  evening  service 
she  would  not  fail.  She  regretted  it,  and  con 
fessed  that  she  would  rather  have  been  absent 
in  the  evening. 

Now,  at  evening  service  Mr.  Bowen  was  to 
preach.  It  was  in  aid  of  the  midnight  mission, 
and  he  had  been  up  all  the  previous  night  to 
prepare  his  sermon.  The  other  ladies  were 
much  interested,  but  Zoe  drew  back  and  said 
nothing.  When  addressed  by  Bowen,  and  di 
rectly  challenged  she  owned  her  lack  of  zeal. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone  he  renewed  the 
subject.  Zoe  treated  it  for  some  time  with  si 
lence,  and  at  last  answered  with  nonchalance. 
It  was  of  all  the  missions  of  the  church  the  one 
in  which  she  felt  absolutely  no  interest  at  all. 
Viewed  as  an  agency  for  reform  the  Midnight 
Mission  was  senseless.  Instead  of  spending 


FAITH.  37 

money  and  effort  on  such  an  object  the  church 
had  better  employ  it  all  to  some  purpose — 
lodgings  for  poor  girls  and  decent  pay  for  half- 
starved  seamstresses.  As  he  pressed  the  mat 
ter,  Zoe's  tone  grew  excited  and  highly  con 
temptuous,  and  Mr.  Bowen  actually  departed 
half  an  hour  sooner  than  he  had  intended. 

After  a  stroll  in  the  park  to  still  his  annoy 
ance,  he  went  to  look  over  his  sermon  with  re 
newed-  interest,  touched  it  up  at  intervals  and 
strengthened  the  expressions.  The  remem 
brance  of  Zoe's  scorn  made  his  finger  ends 
tingle.  The  lamps  were  lit  and  the  evening 
bells  at  the  Crucifixion  were  in  full  peal  before 
the  composition  was  remodeled  to  suit  him. 
He  got  to  church  too  late  for  the  procession 
and  came  in  through  the  side  door  with  his 
surplice  on  awry,  just  as  Dr.  McEachirn  be 
gan  the  exhortation,  "  Dearly  beloved  breth 
ren,"  which  he  said  by  heart  with  the  book  in 
his  hand,  looking  all  about  the  church,  both  to 
lend  impressiveness  to  the  charge  and  to  see 
who  was  there. 

This  took  him  some  time,  for  that  evening 
the  church  was  crowded.  It  was  the  first  Sun- 


38  FAITH. 

day  evening  in  Lent,  and  as  the  rush  theatrical 
was  a  forbidden  thing  during  that  season  the 
rush  ecclesiastical  prevailed.  Thin  operas 
through  the  week  and  crowded  pews  on  Sun 
day.  Besides  being  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent, 
Mr.  Bowen  had  been  published  as  the  preacher, 
and  he  was  a  fast-growing  popular  favorite. 
Zoe  was  in  Mrs.  Rox's  pew  this  evening  within 
twelve  feet  of  the  pulpit.  The  speaker  found 
his  inspiration  nearer  than  usual.  He  cast 
only  one  glance  after  ascending  the  steps  in 
the  region  of  the  white  veil  and  cedarwood 
crosses,  before  opening  his  lips  to  say  in  the 
regulation  Episcopal  monotone : 

"  Holy  Gospel  according  to  St.  Luke,  sev 
enth  chapter  and  forty-fourth  verse.  '  And  he 
turned  to  the  woman,  and  said  unto  Simon  : 
Seest  thou  this  woman  ?  ' ' 

As  the  pews  were  free  at  evening  service, 
Mrs.  Mar  had  been  ordered  to  occupy  the 
middle  place  to  keep  the  inside  seats  for  mem 
bers  of  the  party  coming  late,  but  the  instruc 
tions  were  forgotten.  After  raising  her  eyes 
at  the  announcement  of  the  text,  she  shrank 
into  the  corner,  assumed  an  indifferent  air, 


FAITH.  39 

and  surreptitiously  opened  and  shut  the  clasp 
of  her  prayer-book  in  a  manner  betokening 
mingled  patience  and  nervousness.  This  for- 
getfulness  of  her  engagements  was  noted  by 
Emily  Rox,  who  came  late,  and  as  her  hat  was 
pink  and  her  sister's  red,  and  they  were  thus 
obliged  to  sit  together,  the  chagrin  of  the  two 
women  knew  no  bounds.  Mr.  Bowen  posses 
sed  the  indispensable  to  clerical  success,  a  tell 
ing  and  showy  delivery.  In  this  lay  the  secret 
of  his  growing  popularity,  for  in  the  mouths 
of  ordinary  speakers,  who  had  occasionally 
borrowed  his  sermons,  they  were  ineffective. 
Conscious  of  this  capability,  he  cultivated  the 
extreme  refinements  of  modulation  and  threw 
his  soul  into  his  accent  where  soul  was  an  ad 
missible  thing  on  the  occasion,  so  much  so, 
that  the  clergymen  in  the  stalls  behind  him 
looked  straight  ahead  while  he  preached,  and 
murmured  at  familiar  dinner-tables  the  great 
church  anathema,  "Sensational."  As  he  ex 
celled  in  the  pathetic,  the  season  of  Lent  gave 
him  his  opportunity  to  soar.  It  was  the  only 
time,  except  on  funeral  occasions,  when  touch 
ing  sermons  were  the  thing.  His  sermon  on 


40  FAITH. 

Good  Friday,  from  the  text,  "Behold  the 
man,"  consummated  a  series  of  efforts,  among 
which  his  sermon  of  to-night  stood  second  on 
the  list  in  glory.  Mr.  Bowen,  after  the  first 
pause,  which  gave  the  congregation  time  for  a 
final  rustle  and  a  last  cough,  opened  by  a  com 
parison  between  the  differing  evangelistic  rela 
tions,  and  devoted  some  minutes  to  the  ques 
tion  whether  the  several  accounts  in  the  Gos 
pel  chronicled  the  same  incident.  He  was  in 
clined  to  the  belief  that  the  difference  was 
greater  than  the  natural  disparity  between  his 
torians  of  the  same  event,  and  in  spite  of  some 
trifling  similarities  pronounced  that  the  inter 
nal  evidences,  even  more  than  the  discrepan 
cies  of  time  and  place  went  to  stamp  St. 
Luke's  as  the  record  of  a  separate  transaction. 
This  he  did  not  presume  to  say  as  an  authority, 
but  supported  it  by  quotations  from  Scott's 
Commentary  at  some  length.  His  position 
thus  established,  Mr.  Bowen  proceeded  to  ask 
his  "  dear  brethren"  to  look,  as  Jesus  bade 
Simon,  at  this  woman — robbed  thus  by  the 
unerring  lance  of  Biblical  criticism  of  the  sur 
roundings  which  tradition  had  given  her, — 


FAITH.  41 

robbed  of  brother,  sister,  home,  nativity,  of 
everything  but  of  her  place  at  the  feet  of  the 
Saviour,  and  standing  a  single  dark  figure 
without  a  name,  known  in  the  historic  Gospel 
only  by  the  magnitude  of  her  sin  and  the  re 
ciprocal  magnitude  of  her  pardon  by  the  Son 
of  God.  He  portrayed  her  according  to  that 
unlimited  liberty  of  the  imagination  which  is 
the  prerogative  of  pulpit  oratory,  first  as  an 
innocent  maiden  in  Galilee,  wherein  as  into 
another  Eden,  Satan  entered  ;  to  whom,  a 
second  Eve,  she  listened,  and  from  whom  as 
from  the  first,  he  stole  her  Paradise.  Eve  was 
the  mother  of  mankind — this  woman  was 
man's  nearer  relative — his  sister.  As  Adam 
shared  the  banishment  of  Eve,  so  are  all  his 
race  involved  in  the  fall  of  this,  her  daughter. 
This  woman  is  at  once  our  victim,  our  sister — 
nay,  ourselves,  in  being  our  weightiest  respon 
sibility.  She  is  not  to  be  ignored — she  is  not 
to  be  cast  out.  Forgotten  here,  she  shall  be 
remembered  by  us  in  the  judgment.  "  Of 
ten,"  Mr.  Bowen  said,  "it  was  true,  and  he 
spoke  it  with  reverence,  she  was  born  in  a 
stable  and  cradled  in  a  manger,  without  the  at- 


42  FAITH. 

tending  shepherds  and  the  offerings  of  the 
wise,  for  she  was  often  more  sinless  in  her  sins 
than  those  who  scorned  her— driven  by  the 
world's  own  scourge  to  the  pillar  of  the 
world's  contempt.  Often  this  woman,  whom 
the  congregation  are  called  to  contemplate  to 
night,  has  had  her  Gethsemane  and  her  Cal 
vary.  Magdalene,  with  reverence  be  it  said,  is 
mirror  of  Jesus,  for  in  this  world  her  days 
eternally  reflect  his  passion  in  the  minor  key. 
The  great  Sinner  and  the  great  Saviour  must 
stand  forever  in  the  constellated  firmament  of 
the  church  as  the  moon  to  the  sun  in  the  ma 
terial  heavens.  He  is  the  first-born  of  the  an 
gels — she  the  highest  of  the  saints,  for  the 
majesty  of  her  restoration  once  accomplished, 
the  absoluteness  of  Magdalene's  devotion  gains 
her  this  dignity  in  Heaven,  as  Mary's  purity 
won  for  her  the  immaculate  Motherhood. 
Babylon,  queen  of  darkness  on  earth,  she  has 
become  princess  of  the  glorified  of  God. 
Woe  unto  those,"  and  the  withering  eye  of 
the  speaker  roved  over  the  congregation,  and 
paused  for  an  instant  on  the  bent  head  and 
close  knit  brow  of  Mrs.  Mar,  "  who  have  dared 


FAITH.  43 

despise  this  woman.  We  shall  bewail  her 
whom  our  wrath  has  crushed  in  the  Day  of 

Him  whom  our  sins  have  slain.      Woe  unto 

• 

those  who  close  the  gate  against  this  waiting 
sister.  Admit  her  in  her  scarlet  raiment  and 
behold  it  whiter  than  wool !  Woe  unto  you 
who  would  trample  her  in  the  dust  !  You  may 
be  glad  to  follow  her  in  the  judgment,  going 
in  before  you  through  the  Everlasting  Doors. 
Woe  unto  you  who  refuse  her  the  first  wel 
come  into  the  courts  of  the  Lord,  and  the  first 
place  at  his  table,  the  head  of  whose  order 
dwells  greatest  in  Paradise.  For  greater  than 
Peter,  or  James,  or  John,  at  the  right  hand  of 
Jesus,  stands  Magdalene,  the  perfect  doer  of 
the  Father's  will,  to  whom  much  was  forgiven, 
and  whose  love  is  supreme. 


"  '  Not  she  with  traitorous  kiss  her  Master  stung — 
Not  she  denied  him  with  unfaithful  tongue. 
She,  when  Apostles  fled,  could  danger  brave, 
Last  at  the  cross  and  earliest  at  the  grave.' " 

Mr.  Bowen  was  hardly  disrobed  in  the  vestry- 
room  when  Zoe  came  in.     She  was  the  most 


44  FAITH. 

brilliant  of  visions,  for  her  face  was  scarlet  and 
her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  certain  unusual 
gayety.  After  a  few  words  with  the  other 
clergy  she  asked  Bowen  to  lend  her  his 
sermon. 

"  You  are  the  inevitable  woman,  I  observe — 
it  is  always  somebody — to-night  you — who 
borrows  a  man's  sermon  before  he  can  get  out 
of  church.  You  cannot  read  it,  Mrs.  Mar. 
It  is  all  mixed  up  with  pencil  marks.  What  ? 
— is  that  for  me  ?  " 

It  was  a  folded  fly-leaf  she  had  handed  him, 
and  was  gone.  Mr.  Bowen  read  as  follows  : 

"  Come  up  to-morrow  to  see  me,  at  ten. 
Perhaps  the  gulf  between  us  is  not  impassable. 

"ZOE  MAR." 

And  the  next  morning  at  ten,  Bowen  was 
punctual. 

Zoe  appeared  almost  immediately.  She  was 
dressed  on  this  occasion  in  a  yellow  silk,  cut 
square  in  the  throat,  to  accommodate  the 
usual  laces.  Her  ribbons,  ruffles  and  flounces 
were  all  dead  yellow  with  slight  difference  in 


FAITH.  45 

the  shades.  Her  headdress  was  a  little  vine  of 
gold  buttercups,  and  she  wore  earrings  of 
topaz.  Hair,  dress  and  jewels  were  all  one 
uncontrasted  color. 

Mr.  Bowen  was  agitated,  and  became 
scarlet  and  pale  by  turns.  Zoe  was  calm. 
The  first  few  words  certified  that  the  gulf  had 
become  passable,  and  he  listened  while  Mrs. 
Mar  reminded  him  in  a  very  practical  manner 
that  when  she  ceased  to  be  Mrs.  Mar  she 
ceased  to  be  rich.  This  Bowen  declared  a 
mere  nothing — he  was  impatient  at  the  men 
tion  of  it.  Zoe  went  on  to  mention  that 
besides  this  fact  there  was  another — something 
she  ought  to  reveal  perhaps,  but  she  was  not 
sure.  In  homage  to  justice  she  was  ready  to 
tell  it.  She  had  carried  a  sad  and  painful 
secret  for  years,  and  was  now  nerving  herself 
to  communicate  it ;  and  her  tremor  left  no 
doubt  of  her  emotion. 

Mr.  Bowen  at  this  felt  not  a  little  uneasy. 
He  was  aware  that  Mrs.  Mar's  parents  were 
nobodies,  and  that  her  husband  had  been  a 
wealthy  parvenu.  It  might  be  possible  there 
was  a  stain  on  her  birth.  It  was  only  last 


46  FAITH. 

week  that  a  highly  respectable  couple  with 
children  grown,  had  come  to  him  for  a  private 
marriage  ceremony.  If  not  that,  there  might 
be  a  rascality  somewhere.  Mr.  Bowen  was  a 
man  of  the  world,  as  we  have  said  before. 
He  felt  all  the  disadvantages  of  being  cum 
bered  with  secrets  of  a  disagreeable  nature, 
for  in  case  of  an  unexpected  disclosure,  to  be 
obliged  to  say,  "I  knew  it  at  the  time," 
would  be  awkward  indeed.  This  angel  who 
sat  beside  him  in  butterfly  ruffles  and  dande 
lion  ribbons  and  with  hair  like  sunset,  had  some 
painful  memories.  It  could  be  no  relief  to 
her  to  tell  him — it  would  only  make  two 
parties  in  the  secret. 

"  Is  there  any  likelihood  of  the  thing  coming 
out,  whatever  it  is  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  cannot  tell — sometimes  I  think  the 
secret  forever  buried.  At  other  times  I 
imagine  it  is  in  imminent  danger  of  dis 
closure." 

Mr.  Bowen  instantly  desired  her  not  to  tell 
him.  He  really  preferred  not  to  know.  Noth 
ing  she  could  tell  him  that  was  among  human 
possibilities  could  disturb  his  affection  or  alter 


FAITH.  47 

her  in  his  eyes.     If  she  had  thought  so,  she 
little  knew  the  man  that  loved  her,  etc. 

Zoe  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  at  this  immunity. 
Her  face  grew  less  sad  and  her  hand  ceased  to 
tremble.  Mr.  Bowen  further  gave  his  reasons 
for  desiring  her  reticence.  If  it  should  come 
to  light  that  he  had  known  any  unpleasant 
secret  when  he  married  her,  it  would  injure 
him  vastly  in  the  church,  and  his  influence 
there  was  a  matter  of  consequence. 

This  statement  was  made  freely  and  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Zoe,  fresh  in  theology,  was 
a  little  shocked  at'the  worldlinessof  it,  till  she 
recollected  that  Mr.  Bowcn's  solicitude  about 
his  standing  in  the  church  was  because  he  was 
so  earnestly  engaged  in  fitting  up  recruits  for 
heaven,  and  did  not  wish  anything  that  con 
cerned  him  personally  to  affect  that  work. 
Evidently  it  was  the  souls  he  won,  not  the 
dollars  it  brought  into  the  exchequer  or  the 
worldly  goods  he  gained,  for  which  he  valued 
his  reputation. 

When  the  conversation  had  lasted  for  some 
time  longer,  Zoe  apologized  for  her  request  of 
the  evening  before.  "  I  learned  so  much  from 


48  FAITH. 

your  sermon  that  I  wanted  to  read  it  over  with 
time." 

"  I  am  glad  if  you  can  learn  charity  for  the 
unfortunate  of  your  own  sex  from  any  source," 
said  Bowen.  "  You  are  as  merciless  as  women 
in  general." 

"You  think  I  have  such  a  forbidding  fault, 
and  yet  are  in  love  with  me." 

"  Love  need  not  make  a  man  a  fool.  I  can't 
shut  my  eyes  to  your  treatment  of  the  Mid 
night  Mission.  It  is  wrong.  There  is  no 
nobler  charity  in  the  church." 

"  My  interest  may  be  so  deep  that  you  fail 
to  perceive  it." 

"  Fearfully  deep,  such  interest.  How  many 
times  yesterday  did  you  say  '  pshaw '  when  we 
spoke  of  it  ?  I  confess  it  has  thrown  a  dark 
shade  over  your  character." 

"Oh,  you  misunderstood  me!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Mar.  "  I  disparaged  not  the  work,  but 
the  way  in  which  it  is  done.  Come  into  my 
studio."  And  she  rose  hastily.  Bowen  fol 
lowed  her  to  the  extension-room,  where  the 
morning  light  shone  in  on  the  models,  plaster 
casts  and  bronzes  that  adorned  her  studio. 


FAITH.  49 

On  the  slab  between  the  windows  was  a  model 
veiled.  Zoe  threw  off  the  drapery  and  re 
vealed  a  female  figure  chained  to  the  trunk  of 
a  blasted  tree.  The  woman's  hands  were 
bound  behind  her  and  her  head  thrown  back 
crushed  a  coronet  of  thorns  into  her  temples. 
She  was  girded  by  a  serpent,  with  the  fangs  in 
her  heart.  Her  bare  feet  were  on  a  bed  of 
snakes,  whose  uplifted  heads  coiled  around 
her.  The  face  expressed  neither  hope,  nor 
resignation,  nor  remorse.  It  was  the  stupor 
of  a  great  pain,  and  that  only. 

Bowen  looked  at  it  a  full  minute  in  silence. 

"  It  is  a  very  inconsistent  creation,"  he  said. 
"  The  head  is  that  of  a  goddess,  and  the  fea 
tures  have  narrowly  missed  being  grand,  but 
you  fail  in  the  expression.  How  can  a  crea 
ture  with  such  a  phrenological  warrant  for  a 
character  have  such  an  utterly  lifeless  face  as 
that  ?  There's  no  such  woman." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mar  quickly.  "This 
woman  has  lived  in  all  ages." 

"Where?" 

"  You  told  us  where  yourself,  last  night." 

She  removed  the  cloth  from  the  base  of  the 


50  FAITH. 

pedestal  where  outlined  in  black  pencil  marks 
were  the  words  "F.CCE  FEMINA." 

"  It  don't  apply.  She's  not  a  martyr  as  you 
have  her  here." 

"  And  that  is  your  mistake,  Mr.  Bowen,  and 
the  mistake  of  the  church  in  its  Midnight  Mis 
sion.  Martyr,  no— but  a  sufferer  notwithstand 
ing — the  world's  ignored  and  terrible  sufferer. 
It  is  because  you  and  the  church  forget  or  do 
not  believe  that  fact  that  you  fail  to  rescue — 
your  angels  cannot  search  her  out.  You  pre 
scribe  repentance  and  cells  for  one  who  is 
already  lacerated  unto  death,  and  you  insist  on 
saintship  and  nothing  short  of  it  for  a  being 
who  is  the  most  crushed  and  wretched  of  God's 
creatures." 

"  We  can  learn  from  you — I  and  the  church," 
said  Bowen.  Zoe  ignored  the  satire.  She 
busily  rearranged  the  drapery. 

"  /  have  already  learned  from  you,  as  I  tell 
you.  I  have  learned  that  there  is  some  hope 
among  Christians  of " 

"  Charity,"  suggested  Bowen. 

"  Not  that — there  is  something  which  in  this 
case  is  a  little  superior  to  charity." 


FAITH.  51 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 
"Justice." 

She  replaced  the  covers  in  silence,  and  they 
left  the  studio. 


PART  II. 

RETRIBUTION. 

[HE  engagement  was  known  immedi 
ately,  and  it  was  the  nine  days'  theme 

'among  the  extensive  and  aristocratic 
circle  of  Christians  who  rented  the  front  pews 
at  the  Church  of  the  Crucifixion.  Among  the 
assistant  clergymen  there,  our  hero  stood  high 
est  in  the  general  grace  and  favor.  Of  the  two 
other  assistants,  Mr.  Fletcher  was  too  unpre 
tentious  a  preacher,  and  made  too  little  of  a 
display  as  a  man,  to  cause  anything  but  sighs 
when  he  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  Mr.  Fos- 
brook  was  too  much  out  of  health  ever  to  be 
seen  at  that  elevation.  Mr.  Bowen  stood 
among  the  parishioners  at  the  head  of  the  trio. 
A  sea  voyage  had  been  proposed  for  Mr.  Fos- 


RETRIBUTION.  53 

brook — Mr.  Fletcher  was  content  with  three 
tea  parties  a  week,  and  Dr.  McEachirn  was 
only  too  happy  to  allow  the  parish  duties  to 
devolve  on  Mr.  Bowen,  excepting  alone  wed 
dings  and  baptisms.  In  the  course  of  three 
short  months  Bowen  had  arrived  at  such  a 
pitch  of  popularity  that  his  marriage  was  the 
greatest  event  next  to  his  death  that  could  pos 
sibly  have  transpired  to  stir  the  pulses  of  the 
congregation.  They  all  ran  round  to  look  up 
new  patterns  in  silverware  and  went  to  Mrs. 
Rox  assiduously  to  learn  about  the  bridal  cere 
monies. 

This  lady,  it  was  noted,  was  rather  sportive 
on  the  occasion,  but  that  was  not  surprising. 
She,  in  common  with  Mr.  Mar's  other  relatives, 
had  been  anxious  to  see  Zoe  married  again. 
Still,  when  the  engagement  to  Bowen  was 
announced,  which  was  in  the  evening  by  a  note, 
the  Colonel  and  his  wife  exchanged  looks 
across  the  supper-table,  and  the  looks  said 
unspeakable  things. 

"  A  clergyman — and  an  intimate  friend  of 
ours  !  "  said  the  Colonel ;  "  Maria,  it's  too  bad. 
We  can't  let  it  go  on." 


54  RETRIBUTION. 

Maria  looked  at  her  rings  and  said,  "  Pshaw, 
let  the  poor  thing  alone — she  is  in  love  or  she 
never  would  give  up  such  a  property." 

They  were  married  at  Easter.  Mrs.  Rox 
and  the  Colonel  were  to  play  the  chief  part  at 
the  wedding.  They  were  present  at  the  church, 
but  withdrew  shortly  after  the  ceremony.  The 
extensive  Mar  connection  had  no  other  repre 
sentative,  but  then  many  of  them  had  never 
seen  Zoe,  and  too  far  off  to  be  heirs  were  not 
interested.  But  the  congregation  of  the  Cru 
cifixion  parish  was  there  with  all  its  neighbors, 
and  the  Mars  made  no  gap.  It  was  noticed, 
however,  that  they  did  not  come. 

Zoe  settled  very  naturally  into  her  new  po 
sition.  Bowen's  house  was  a  rather  ancient 
gothic  cottage  standing  farther  back  from  the 
street  than  the  neighboring  more  pretentious 
mansions,  but  rejoicing  in  a  luxury  which  they 
did  not  possess,  a  surrounding  yard  and  shade 
trees,  which  sheltered  it  from  view  of  the  high 
way.  It  had  been  the  original  rectory,  but 
with  the  increasing  emoluments  of  the  church, 
had  been  abandoned  by  Dr.  McEachirn  for  a 
brown-stone  front  up  town,  and  being  disliked 


RETRIBUTION.  55 

by  the  other  assistants  for  its  location  away 
from  the  wealthier  part  of  the  congregation, 
which  was  rapidly  moving  up  town,  and  ac 
tually  talking  of  a  new  church  site,  it  had  nat 
urally  fallen  to  Mr.  Bo  wen.  The  furniture  had 
served  two  assistant  ministers  before,  and  what 
was  left  revealed  hard  usage.  Zoe  set  about 
a  renovation.  As  the  curtains  did  not  stand 
taking  down,  nor  the  mattings  taking  up,  there 
was  room  for  energy,  and  she  immediately  be 
came  very  happy  in  devoting  the  small  balance 
that  lawfully  belonged  to  her  from  her  lately 
surrendered  income  in  making  reinforcements 
to  the  linen  department  and  carpeting  the 
floors.  The  jewellers'  stores  missed  Mrs.  Mar's 
carriage,  and  the  fashionable  dressmakers  saw 
her  no  more,  for  Mrs.  Bowen  rode  in  the 
street  cars  like  other  republicans,  and  she 
bought  pattern  books  and  altered  her  dresses 
into  the  fashion  with  her  own  hands. 

"  None  of  the  Mars  have  been  here  to  see 
you  since  we  were  married,"  remarked  Bowen, 
— "  not  even  Mrs.  Rox." 

"  They  have  the  money  now — that  is  all 
they  want,"  said  Zoe.  "  We  can  do  very  well 


56  RETRIBUTION. 

without  them.     We  have  our  church  world  to 
attend  to." 

She  had  found  the  church  world  a  pleasant 
one  since  her  active  introduction  into  it.  "  Rev. 
E.  C.  Bowen  "  was  the  open  sesame  to  Episco- 
palianism  everywhere,  and  the  young  lady  en 
joyed  that  religious  free-masonry  existing  so 
undefinably  in  the  respectable  drawing  rooms 
and  nonchalant  dinner-tables  of  that  rather  ex 
clusive  "  persuasion."  She  was  in  the  centre 
of  the  circle  now — drawn  there  from  the  circum 
ference — a  circle  of  so  much  goodness  and  love 
liness,  with  no  one  to  make  uncharitable  re 
marks  if  the  clergyman's  wife  wore  gay  colors 
at  receptions  or  made  models  of  the  heads  of 
heathen  gods. 

There  was  one  side  of  her  character  that  de 
veloped  after  her  marriage,  to  Bowen's  annoy 
ance.  Zoe  was  very  fond  of  shows.  Not  only 
shows  in  the  more  favorable  sense  of  the  word, 
as  the  legitimate  drama  or  refined  operatic 
performances,  but  circuses,  minstrelsy  and  va 
rieties.  She  acknowledged  that  there  were 
many  things  in  the  latter  to  offend  her  taste, 
but  for  the  sake  of  the  music,  songs  and  eques- 


RETRIBUTION.  57 

trian  exercises  she  frequented  them,  and  con 
fessed  that  there  was  a  certain  love  of  excite 
ment  and  restlessness  in  her  composition  to 
which  they  afforded  a  very  comfortable  safety 
valve. 

At  last  when  Bowen  made  an  extra  strong 
remonstrance  on  the  subject,  which  he  did  amid 
a  heavy  cloud  from  his  favorite  meerschaum, 
and  just  after  the  trying  ordeal  of  having  his 
study  table  put  in  order,  Zoe  agreed  that  in 
consideration  of  the  talk  in  the  parish  if  she 
pursued  her  course  of  theatre  and  museum 
going,  to  abandon  it.  Within  a  week,  how 
ever,  a  still  weightier  annoyance  was  caused 
Mr.  Bowen  by  finding  her  dressing  to  attend 
the  immersion  of  a  friend  who  was  about  to 
join  the  Baptists. 

"  To  a  Baptist — a — a — schism — shop  !  And 
you  my  wife  !  " 

"  I  hardly  think,"  said  Zoe,  "  that  any  place 
dedicated  to  the  worship  of  God,  deserves  a 
contemptuous  name.  Would  it  injure  you  to 
say  Baptist  Church  ?  " 

' '  Church— of  what  ?     Water  tanks  ?  " 

Zoe  retorted  with  impetus, 


58  RETRIBUTION. 

"  Why  not  water  tanks  as  well  as  dinner 
tables?  If  you  say  so,  we  will  agree  to  call 
our  own  a  church  of  dinner  tables." 

A  little  coolness,  the  first  since  their  mar 
riage,  arose  out  of  this  passage-at-arms.  It 
gradually  melted  away,  however,  and  the  tran 
sient  rebellion  against  the  faith  she  had  em 
braced  left  no  trace.  She  abandoned  all  di 
version  seeking,  said  no  more  of  excursions 
outside  the  fold,  and  settled  unmurmuringly 
into  her  own  sphere,  where  she  was  busy 
enough. 

With  the  advent  of  a  little  Bo  wen,  Zoe's 
visitings  in  the  parish  ceased,  and  even  her  at 
tendance  at  church  fell  off  noticeably.  She 
hardly  went  once  a  month,  and  when  Bowen 
spoke  of  it  actually  pleaded  to  stay  at  home,  at 
least  while  the  baby  was  so  young.  This 
point  Bowen  was  forced  to  yield. 

Months  had  gone  on,  and  found  Zoe's  course 
unaltered.  She  was  noted,  as  Mr.  Bowen  fre 
quently  said  to  her  pettishly  (for  he  could  be 
pettish  at  times),  for  nothing  now-a-days  so 
much  as  for  staying  at  home.  It  did  not  mat 
ter  that  she  had  a  crucifix  in  the  closet.  He 


RETRIBUTION.  59 

did  not  like  private  oratories.  Sometimes 
these  religious  privacies  smacked  of  affecta 
tion.  They  were  as  bad  as  ostentatious  devo 
tions  and  he  disliked  both.  Let  people  go  to 
church  as  a  matter  of  course  and  then  come 
home  and  go  to  dinner  sensibly.  The  baby 
was  large  enough  now  to  be  left.  Could  she 
not  trust  Mary  ? 

"Yes,  perfectly." 

Then  why  not  occasionally  be  seen  at  church. 

Zoe  evaded  reply,  and  attacked  Bowen  for 
his  falling  off  in  zeal.  She  reminded  him  of 
the  fondness  he  had  exhibited  in  former  times 
for  church  ritual  and  ceremony — he  would 
never  have  rebuked  any  one  then  for  private 
altars,  or  recommended  "sensible  religion" 
and  the  dinner  table  sequence.  Zoe  pro 
nounced  the  word  "  dinner  table  "  with  such 
an  advance  on  her  usual  scorn  that  Bowen  re 
treated  in  silence. 

She  saw  him  go  with  a  sigh.  "  He  little 
knows,"  she  said  to  herself  "how  I  dread 
meeting  those  people  from  N — .  When  only 
it  was  my  own  risk  I  could  run  it,  but  now  for 
the  baby's  sake."  Her  eyes  suffused  painfully, 


60  RETRIBUTION. 

and  she  turned  away  to  her  usual  solace — the 
cradle. 

One  day  when  the  baby  was  about  fifteen 
months  old  Zoe  came  in  from  an  early  com 
munion  service  in  a  manner  that  denoted  some 
excitement.  Bowen  surprised  her  over  the 
child,  in  tears. 

"  What  has  happened  Zoe  ?  "  he  asked. 

Certain  eyes  in  the  congregation  which  had 
changed  and  grown  cold — that  was  all.  Zoe 
did  not  say  so,  but  took  her  husband's  hand 
and  looked  up  imploringly. 

"  Edwin,  let  us  leave  here  and  go  to  some 
cottage  in  the  country." 

"  It's  too  early  in  the  year  yet,  Zoe." 

"  I  mean  live  there — stay  and  give  up  here. 
You  can  plough  and  I  do  housework,  and  both 
be  happy." 

Bowen  looked  at  her  compassionately. 

"  What  a  mad  proposition.  We  ought  to  be 
happy  enough  as  it  is.  You  are  low-spirited. 
Take  the  baby  and  have  a  ride." 

And  Zoe  roused  herself  to  obey  the  injunc 
tion.  "  It  cannot  be  averted,"  she  sighed. 
"  It  will  soon  come  now." 


RETRIBUTION.  6 1 

The  next  morning  she  sat  by  the  nursery 
window  rocking  the  baby  to  sleep.  Otherwise, 
she  was  alone  in  the  room.  Shadows  on  the 
walk  drew  her  eyes  to  the  gate,  and  she  saw 
coming  up  the  path  three  clergymen.  She 
perceived  that  they  were  clergymen  by  the  cut 
of  their  cloth  ;  as  her  gaze  was  prolonged,  she 
recognized  Rev.  J.  D.  Fletcher,  D.  D.,  Rev. 
A.  K.  Sallenlawson,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  and  Rev. 
Harriman  Ackerly  Troy,  D.  D.,  LL.D., 
D.C.L.  •  The  first  of  these  gentlemen  was  her 
husband's  associate  assistant  at  the  Crucifixion, 
the  second  was  a  noted  flowery  pulpit  orator, 
but  grossly  low-church — the  third  was  that 
sound  and  exemplary  and  highly  conservative 
churchman,  who  had  missed,  by  one  vote  only, 
the  last  election  for  bishop  of  his  own  diocese. 
Clergymen  on  that  walk  were  no  uncommon 
spectacle,  but  this  was  a  remarkable  coming 
of  clergymen.  They  were  of  a  different  stripe 
in  politics — high-church,  low-church,  and  mid 
dle  church  —  there  they  came  all  abreast. 
Something  had  produced  great  unity.  They 
were  walking  very  slowly.  Their  conversation 
was  grave  and  there  was  not  a  smile  in  the 


62  RETRJBUTION. 

company.  They  had  come  on  business. 
Messrs.  Troy  and  Sallenlawson  were  men 
whom  Bowen  met  at  state-dinners  or  at  the 
Bishop's  receptions.  They  were  comparative 
strangers.  Something  about  them  reminded 
Zoe  of  the  two  or  three  witnesses  prescribed 
in  the  Scripture.  She  rose  with  a  shudder. 
They  stood  some  minutes  on  the  porch  before 
they  rang  the  bell. 

Still  hushing  the  child  to  her  breast,  Zoe 
went  to  her  husband's  study.  Bowcn  was 
there — the  gentlemen's  cards  were  in  with  a 
request  to  see  Mr.  Bowen  alone  on  very  im 
portant  business.  Bowen  sent  the  girl  to  in 
vite  the  gentlemen  in. .  He  threw  down  the 
pencilled  message  and  slammed  his  hat  and 
gloves  on  the  table. 

"  I  have  come  to  prepare  you,"  said  Zoe 
tremulously. 

"  You  can't  prepare  me  !  My  God  !  I've 
expected  nothing  short  of  it !  I've  got  the 
appointment  to  that  vacant  missionary  bishop 
ric  across  the  Mississippi.  We've  all  been 
quaking  a  week  among  the  strong  parishes. 
What  brings  old  Troy  here  but  that  ?  — and 


RETRIBUTION.  63 

Sallenlawson — never  comes  here  except  as  a 
tag  to  the  Bishop  !  I  wish  some  earthquake 
would  swallow  up  all  of  God's  footstool  west 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  !  " 

"  Need  you  go  ?  " 

"  What  can  I  say  ?  I'm  neither  old  nor  sick 
nor  incompetent.  If  I  say  I'd  rather  stay  here 
than  go  tagging  about  the  Indian  country  to 
be  frozen  in  snow  and  jolted  to  death  in  carts, 
and  finally  scalped,  and  for  half  the  salary 
I  have  now,  what  a  howl  there  would  be  !  Dr. 
Troy  would  cut  his  throat  before  he  would  go 
himself!  Hang  him  !  " 

The  object  of  this  malediction  arrived  in  the 
hall  door  way  just  after  Zoe's  retreat  through 
the  next  portal.  Mr.  Bowen  did  not  rise  for 
five  full  seconds,  but  it  took  his  visitors  that 
amount  of  time  to  get  in.  By  that  time  he 
had  forced  a  smile,  and  shook  hands  all  round 
with  due  decorum,  but  the  smile  was  sickly 
and  the  hand  rather  nervous,  for  Mr.  Bowen 
was  not  naturally  a  hypocrite.  Yes,  it  was 
plainly  enough  a  committee.  They  sat  down 
like  a  row  of  judges.  They  all  hemmed  and 
hawed  and  looked  disturbed.  Mr.  Fletcher, 


64  RETRIBUTION. 

most  of  all,  as  he  was  Bowen's  personal  friend. 
Fletcher  said,  "  My  dear  fellow,"  and  Dr. 
Troy  said,  "  My  dear  Mr.  Bowen,"  and  Mr. 
Sallenlawson  said,  "Our  dear  brother  in  the 
Lord,"  and  they  all  looked  like  people  who 
had  very  disagreeable  feelings  generally. 

"  We  have  come  here  on  a  very  unpleasant 
errand  this  morning,"  Dr.  Troy  managed  to 
say — "  a  very  painful  matter  indeed." 

Mr.  Bowen  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  This  was 
not  the  way  in  which  gentlemen  and  church 
men  would  announce  a  promotion  to  any  of 
their  own  body.  He  felt  at  peace  with  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  nor  did  the  words  "  bad 
news,"  trouble  his  soul.  Something  was  the 
matter  in  the  church  somewhere.  It  was  not 
impossible  that  the  Rector  was  dead.  Mr. 
Bowen's  ideas  flashed  through  the  conse 
quences — the  vacant  place — the  next  election 
— twelve  thousand  a  year — the  control  of  the 
church — still  he  did  not  wish  the  suspicion  cor 
rect.  God  forbid  !  He  would  not  admit  to 
himself  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  that  he  had 
thought  of  it.  He  asked,  ""Is  the  Rector 
well  ?  "  They  all  said  "  yes." 


RETRIBUTION.  65 

"Then,  gentlemen,"  replied  Bowen,  "I  am 
all  at  sea.  'What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Sallenlawson  is  spokesman,"  said 
Fletcher,  looking  as  though  he  would  have 
changed  his  location  for  that  of  the  North 
Pole. 

Mr.  Sallenlawson  suggested  a  few  words  of 
prayer  prior  to  the  communication.  Mr. 
Bowen  looked  submissively  at  Dr.  Troy,  and 
his  eyes  twinkled  toward  Fletcher,  whose  grave 
orbs  did  not  respond.  Dr.  Troy  waved  away 
the  suggestion  by  a  hasty  gesture  of  the  hand 
and  said:  "  Not  at  all  necessary — much  better 
explain  matters  at  once  to  Mr.  Bowen,  as  we 
proposed." 

•   "  Then  this  matter  concerns  me  personally," 
said  Bowen,  growing  grave. 

"It  concerns  you — it  concerns  the  whole 
church,"  said  Mr.  Sallenlawson.  "It  is  a 
thing  under  which  the  whole  body  suffers  and 
must  continue  to  suffer  through  you.  It  is 
connected,  Mr.  Bowen,  with  your  private  life 
— with  the  very  heart  of  your  home — with 
your  marriage  relations." 

"  Well,  I  am   utterly  mystified,"   said   Mr. 


66  RETRIBUTION. 

Bowen.  He  laid  his  elbow  uneasily  on  the 
table,  and  his  coat  sleeve  shoved  up  under  his 
wrist-band,  and  his  hair  grew  very  rough 
under  his  hand.  But  he  was  mystified — that 
was  all.  His  heart  had  beaten  quicker,  but  his 
conscience  was  as  quiescent  as  a  lamb.  He 
looked  at  the  gentlemen  in  turn.  Dr.  Troy 
took  a  paper  from  his  breast  and  handed  it  to 
Mr.  Sallenlawson.  That  gentleman  read  aloud 
at  some  length.  It  was  a  communication  from 
the  Bishop  to  Mr.  Bowen,  expressing  great 
regret  for  the  terrible  scandal  that  had  lately 
been  connected  with  his  name,  hoping  that 
Mr.  Bowen  would  recognize  the  chastening 
hand  of  an  All-wise  Father  and  bow  in  sub 
mission  to  His  will.  The  fangs  of  that  deadli 
est  serpent,  impurity,  had  struck  him,  and 
through  him  the  church  in  a  most  vital  point. 
Let  not,  however,  despair  come  to  the  heart  of 
this  brother.  The  church,  which  he  had 
served  so  well,  would  prove  his  great  resource 
in  this  dire  extremity.  Time  could  ameliorate 
even  an  evil  so  fearful  as  this,  and  the  recollec 
tion  might  perish  with  the  cause  from  among 
the  face  of  men. 


RETRIBUTION.  67 

Mr.  Sallenlawson  read  with  agitation,  ajid 
much  of  the  letter  was  incoherent.  Mr. 
Bowen  lost  the  consolatory  passages.  The 
matter  was  no  clearer  than  before. 

"This  is  very  extraordinary,"  he  said. 
"  What  have  I  been  doing?  " 

"  No  blame  can  attach  to  you,  Mr.  Bowen/' 
said  Fletcher;  "nor  disgrace;  that  is,  not 
directly.  Of  your  innocence  we  are  all  con 
vinced." 

"  I  mean  what  do  they  say  I  have  been 
doing  ?  "  insisted  Bowen,  and  he  racked  his 
recollection  internally.  "I  have  been  very 
careful — or  thought  myself  so.  I  have  hardly 
looked  at  a  woman  unless  all  the  world  were 
standing  by.  You  have  all  been  long  enough 
in  the  ministry  to  know  what  the  attacks  of 
church  gossips  are.  Is  this  anything  seri 
ous  ?  " 

"  Very  serious,"  said  the  spokesman. 
"  Mr.  Bowen,  this  scandal  attaches  to  your 
wife — not  to  yourself." 

"  But,  gentlemen,"  protested  Bowen,  "noth 
ing  can  be  said  against  my  wife.  Her  life  has 
been  purely  domestic — much  more  so  indeed 


68  RETRIBUTION. 

than  was  pleasing  to  me.  She  has  stayed  at 
home  and  taken  care  of  her  child." 

They  were  awful  words  indeed  that  fell 
from  Dr.  Troy — awful  to  the  husband's  car, 
gentle  as  the  speaker's  commiseration  meant 
to  make  his  terms.  "  Before  you  married  her, 
— my  dear  brother." 

"Gentlemen, "answered  Bowen,  indignantly, 
"  if  any  one  has  been  slandering  Mrs.  Bowcn, 
we  must  trace  the  slander  to  its  source — that 
is  all.  Its  author  is  not  beneath  notice,  as  the 
slander  has  attained  such  dimensions  that  the 
bishop  writes  to  me  on  the  subject." 

There  was  a  dead  pause.  Bowen  felt  the 
silence  powerfully.  He  tried  again  to  speak, 
but  it  was  difficult — there  came  over  him  the 
memory  of  how  Zoe  had  spoken  of  a  secret — 
of  the  mystery  that  was  around  her  connec 
tion  with  certain  persons — of  the  strange  atti 
tude  of  Mr.  Mar's  relatives  toward  her  on  her 
second  marriage.  He  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  three  clergymen.  He  saw  in 
their  eyes  the  sternest  of  certainties  and  the 
kindest  of  sympathies.  His  tone  changed. 


RETRIBUTION.  69 

"Gentlemen,"  he  faltered,  "  what  do  they 
say  of  my  wife  ?  " 

He  looked  at  Dr.  Troy,  who  answered : 
"  It  came  to  light  that  Mrs.  Mar,"  (he  avoided 
saying  Mrs.  Bowen)  "  had  not  led  such  a  life 
as  would  fit  her  to  be  the  wife  of  a  clergy 
man." 

"  She  was  a  worldly  woman,  certainly,"  said 
Bowen.  "  That  I  do  not  deny." 

The  three  looked  at  each  other.  Fletcher 
and  Troy  nodded  to  Sallenlawson. 

"Worse,  Mr.  Bowen.  Not  only  worldly, 
but  a  highly  criminal  woman." 

"  Is  the  thing  I  am  to  understand  neither 
more  nor  less  than  that  she  was  accused  of  in 
fidelity  to  Mr.  Mar  ?  " 

Another  pause.  The  drops  stood  on 
Bowen's  temples. 

"Worse  than  that.  Before  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  Mar,"  rejoined  Mr.  Sallenlawson, 
his  voice  sinking  low  and  his  eyes  averted, 
"  Mrs.  Bowen  was  a  common  woman  of  the 
city." 

Mr.  Bowen  gazed  at  the  speaker  utterly 
thunderstruck.  For  one  instant  he  could  not 


70  RETRIBUTION. 

breathe.  Then  he  moved  with  the  intention 
to  take  the  Rev.  gentleman  by  the  throat  and 
cast  him  headlong  down  the  staircase.  Mr. 
Sallenlawson  did  not  retreat  from  him  one  inch, 
but  Fletcher  and  Troy  rose  at  once  to  inter 
fere.  At  that  instant,  Zoe,  who  had  been 
standing  close  behind  the  door — not  as  an 
eavesdropper,  but  as  an  actress  in  a  tragedy 
waiting  for  her  cue,  came  before  them.  Her 
face  was  the  hue  of  ashes  and  she  still  held  the 
sleeping  child  in  her  arms.  They  all  looked  at 
her.  She  cast  down  her  eyes  and  said,  "It 
is  true." 

"It's  not  true,"  thundered  Bowen.  "I 
don't  believe  it.  Zoe,  deny  it — deny  it — for 
your  life — instantly — it's  a  damnable  lie." 

Zoe  repeated  quickly  and  firmly,  "It  is 
true." 

Bowen  rushed  forward  and  seized  her  by  the 
bosom  of  her  dress. 

"  Give  me  my  child,"  he  said,  and  tore  the 
infant  from  her  arms.  Then  he  threw  her 
violently  back  against  the  door. 

"  Snake  !  "  with  a  furious  stamp  of  the  foot 
— "  get  out  of  my  sight — out  of  this  house." 


RETRIBUTION.  Jl 

The  room  turned  blue  and  swam — Mr.  Sal- 
lenlawson  sprang  forward  and  caught  the  child, 
and  the  wretched  father  fell  insensible  to  the 
floor. 


PART  III. 

JUSTICE. 

T  was  well  over  the  parish  by  that 
evening.  While  the  reverend  com- 
'mittee  were  closeted  with  Mr.  Bowen, 
the  business  on  which  they  had  gone  was  cir 
culating  busily,  no  longer  as  an  uncredited  ru 
mor,  but  as  a  verified  fact.  It  was  a  most 
unheard  of  thing.  The  ladies  who  walked 
home  in  couples  from  morning  service,  said 
that  such  a  thing  had  never  been  known  before, 
with  an  emphasis  that  seemed  to  reflect  on 
Divine  Providence  for  permitting  it  among  the 
possibilities.  Mr.  Sallenlawson  called  at  Mr. 
Fletcher's  on  the  way  back  to  tell  the  family 
that  Mr.  Fletcher  could  not  return  to  dinner, 
but  had  stayed  with  Mr.  Bowen,  and  he  saw 


JUSTICE.  73 

Mrs,  Fletcher  and  her  mother  and  Fletcher's 
two  sisters,  Jeannette  and  Aurelia.  They  all 
listened  to  Mr.  Sallenlawson,  drawn  up  in  the 
shady  front  parlor  of  their  English  base 
ment  house.  They  all  agreed  that  it  was  a 
terrible  thing — very  painful  mission  for  Messrs. 
Sallenlawson,  Fletcher  and  Troy — awful  indeed 
for  Mr.  Bowen — very  unfortunate  for  the  whole 
church.  Only  nothing  could  really  hurt  the 
church  !  They  all  wanted  to  know  how  Mr. 
Bowen  had  taken  it,  very  much  in  the  tone  in 
which  people  who  did  not  go  to  the  funeral 
ask  those  who  did  go  how  the  mourners  ap 
peared  to  feel  their  affliction.  Mr.  Sallenlaw 
son  thought  he  had  taken  it  very  hard  indeed. 
The  ladies  all  said,  "  Poor  Mr.  Bowen,"  and 
the  worst  of  it  all  was  his  utter  helplessness — 
no  redress  for  the  scandal  that  attached  to  him 
— no  hope  from  the  law. 

"What!  no  divorce  possible ?"  cried  Mrs. 
Fletcher. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  pronounced  Mr.  Sal 
lenlawson.  "  This  creature  knows  how  to  ap 
pear  well,  and  since  her  marriage  nothing  can 
be  proved  against  her.  She  has  taken  care  of 


74  JUSTICE. 

that.  Mr.  Bowen  is  powerless.  He  cannot 
even  get  a  separation.  The  law  gives  her  all 
the  rights  of  a  wife." 

Mrs.  Fletcher  fanned  herself  and  stated  that 
God  was  higher  than  the  law.  Her  mother 
said  with  spirit :  "  If  I  were  Mr.  Bowen,  I 
would  go  away  with  my  child  where  she  would 
never  find  me.  I  would  ask  the  Bishop  to 
send  me  away  as  a  missionary  among  the  In 
dians." 

"  The  Bishop  will  help  him  in  something  of 
the  sort,  undoubtedly,"  said  the  clergyman. 
He  and  Dr.  Troy  had  agreed  on  the  way  down 
that  this  affair  had  killed  Mr.  Bowen  in  the 
church. 

Everything  that  went  on  under  that  mis 
erable  roof  was  the  affair  of  the  parish  before 
nightfall.  It  was  beyond  the  domain  of  ordi 
nary  gossip,  and  sufficient  to  occupy  the  most 
dignified  churchman  in  the  diocese  for  the  en 
suing  nine  days  or  longer.  Afternoon  service 
was  well  attended,  and  the  ladies  all  took  home 
to  their  supper-tables  the  news — that  Mrs. 
Bowen  had  refused  to  leave  the  house  !  and 
had  told  Mr.  Fletcher  she  would  stand  upon 


JUSTICE.  75 

her  legal  rights.  That  Mr.  Bowen  had  then 
gone  to  the  house  of  the  rector,  where  he  was 
at  present,  and  that  he  kept  his  room  and  saw 
nobody. 

The  speculation  among  the  ladies  of  the  par 
ish  was  intense,  as  to  what  Mr.  Bowen  was 
going  to  do  with  the  child.  He  could  not  in 
tend  to  abandon  it  to  such  a  mother  !  Her 
position  in  that  house  would  be  comfortable 
indeed.  Some  hope  was  extracted  from  the 
report  that  Dr.  Troy  had  left  the  baby  asleep 
on  its  father's  over-coat,  which  he  had  doubled 
on  the  study  table,  and  then  from  Mr.  Sallen- 
lawson,  who  was  sure  Mr.  Bowen  had  no  hesi 
tation  about  that  matter.  Miss  McEachirn, 
who  had  several  callers  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
set  everybody  at  rest  with  an  energetic,  "  Oh  ! 
no,  indeed.  Mr.  Bowen  has  not  left  the  baby ! 
He  brought  it  when  he  came  here,  and  one  of 
his  servants  to  take  care  of  it." 

This  was  sufficiently  satisfactory. 

Fletcher  came  home,  not  the  person  most 
disconcerted  in  all  the  world  by  that  day's  pro 
ceedings,  but  certainly  not  the  least  so.  Flet 
cher,  himself,  was  not  brilliant,  and  had  suffi- 


76  JUSTICE. 

cient  sense  to  be  aware  of  it,  and  Mr.  Bowen's 
predecessor  at  the  Church  of  the  Crucifixion 
had  been  a  certain  Mr.  Malthaus,  whom  Mr. 
Fletcher  had  found  seriously  obnoxious.  The 
said  Malthaus  had  been  very  popular  in  the 
parish,  and  with  one  uncle  and  two  brothers- 
in-law  on  the  vestry,  stood  a  fair  chance  to  be 
eventually  in  the  place  of  Dr.  McEachirn. 
This  had  been  wormwood  to  Fletcher,  but  a 
quarrel  between  the  rector  and  Mr.  Malthaus 
resulted  in  the  latter's  hasty  resignation.  It 
was  a  step  immediately  regretted  by  Mr.  Mal 
thaus  and  his  friends  in  the  vestry,  and  Mr. 
Fletcher,  fearing  only  that  it  might  not  be 
final,  us^d  all  his  influence  to  have  the  vacancy 
supplied  without  delay  by  somebody  who 
should  be  unmistakably  superior.  It  was  he 
who  had  suggested  Mr.  Bowen,  whom  he  had 
known  and  liked  in  the  Seminary,  and  he  in 
troduced  him  to  Dr.  McEachirn  as  the  best 
possible  foil  to  the  memories  of  Malthaus  in 
the  congregation.  He  had,  therefore,  watched 
Bowen's  increasing  popularity  with  an  exultant 
eye,  and  felt  that  in  case  of  Dr.  McHuchirn's 
death  or  retirement,  three  men  on  the  vestry 


JUSTICE.  77 

would  be  powerless  to  drag  Malthaus  back. 
His  own  small  influence  over  the  electors,  and 
Fosbrook's  ill-health,  would  debar  either  of 
them  from  the  rector's  chair,  and  to-day  it  was 
a  serious  blow  to  him  to  find  that  Mr.  Bowen 
was  so  severely  crippled  as  a  future  candidate. 
Still  he  knew  the  value  of  time  in  dissipating 
impressions,  and  he  had  faint  hope  of  a  rally. 

But  he  returned  to  the  bosom  of  his  family 
quite  cast-down.  His  wife  and  sisters  were 
discussing  Zoe's  refusal  to  leave  the  house,  and 
Fletcher  confirmed  it  as  true.  He  had  gone 
to  her  to  ask  when  she  would  have  a  carriage, 
and  she  said,  "Not  at  all."  He  added  that 
she  was  behaving  very  badly.  Mr.  Bowen 
had  told  him  (Fletcher)  to  inform  her  that 
he  would  respect  her  legal  rights,  but  desired 
her  not  to  molest  him ;  and  after  his  departure 
he  had  sent  for  the  child's  clothes,  and  Mrs. 
Bowen  had  refused  to  give  them  up.  At  din 
ner  a  note  came  in  which  after  being  read  by 
the  family,  he  sent  off  to  Bowen  at  Dr. 
McEachirn's.  It  read  thus  : 


78  JUSTICE. 

"REV  I.  D.  FLETCHER. 

"  DEAR  SIR  : 

"  The  girl  whom  Mr.  Bowen  has  with  him 
is  unfit  to  take  care  of  our  child.  I  believe 
you  know  where  he  has  gone.  Please  say  to 
him  that  I  refused  just  now  to  send  him  the 
baby's  clothes  because  I  am  going  away  and 
he  will  probably  prefer  to  bring  the  child  back 
to  Mary  whom  he  knows  to  be  more  trust 
worthy.  Before  this  note  reaches  you  I  shall 
be  gone,  and  my  husband  may  rely  upon  it 
that  I  will  not  return. 

"ZoEL.  BOWEN." 

Long  before  the  delivery  of  this  note  to 
Bowen,  the  miserable  woman  had  abandoned 
the  house  which  was  home  to  her  no  longer. 
About  dark  she  returned  to  the  vicinity  and 
took  shelter  in  a  projection  of  the  opposite 
building.  Here  she  watched  for  an  hour  till 
a.  carriage  drew  up  at  the  gate.  Then  she 
recognized  Bowen  going  through  it,  and  Lucy 
following,  while  the  moonlight  shone  on  a 
little  face  in  an  infant's  cap  on  her  shoulder. 
Zoe  stood  gazing  at  the  door  through  which  it 


JUSTICE.  79 

vanished  like  one  in  a  dream.  She  saw  the 
shades  drawn  down  at  the  nursery  windows, 
and  knew  that  there  was  nothing  more  for  her 
to  see  of  the  child  that  night. 

The  next  day,  long  before  the  hour  at  which 
Lucy  usually  took  the  baby  in  the  park,  Zoe 
was  at  the  fence  watching  his  coming. 

But  Lucy  was  late.  She  had  been  on  an 
illicit  excursion  with  the  child,  and  so  ap 
proached  from  another  avenue.  Zoe  saw  the. 
infant  as  it  passed  the  fountain  and  the  child 
stretched  out  its  little  arms  and  shouted; 
"  Mamma."  Zoe  pushed  aside  Lucy  and 
caught  the  baby  in  her  arms,  taking  it  from: 
the  carriage  and  going  up  and  down  the  walk 
like  one  distracted.  The  child  sprung  with! 
delight  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  repeatedly,' 
and  the  mother,  laughing  and  crying  alter 
nately,  talked  to  it  utterly  regardless  of  the 
benches.  "You  don't  know  anything  about 
it,  you  little  darling!  Blessed  be  God,  they 
can't  tell  you.  It's  Mamma — that's  enough 
for  you.  Ah !  you've  got  the  true  love  ! 
You'll  never  send  her  away  from  you  because 


80  JUSTICE. 

she  was  bad — no,  never  in  this  world,  though 
you  should  grow  a  man  fifty  times  over." 

As  it  grew  late  she  brought  him  back  and 
buckled  him  in  the  carriage  with  her  own 
hands. 

"  You'll  bring  him  every  day  ?  "  she  said  to 
Lucy.  Lucy  who  stood  with  eyes  cast  down, 
and  evidently  embarrassed  at  the  encounter, 
said,  "Yes,  ma'am,"  and  wheeled  the  child 
away. 

The  next  day  Zoe  was  at  the  same  post, 
but  she  waited  in  vain.  The  child  did  not 
come.  It  was  Saturday,  and  she  waylaid 
Mary  at  the  evening  market  and  asked,  in 
a  voice  that  was  a  little  husky,  for  the  baby. 
Mary  said  that  Lucy  had  reported  the  inci 
dent  of  the  previous  day  to  Mr.  Bowen,  and 
had  received  orders  not  to  go  to  that  park 
with  Eddy  any  more. 

At  this  Zoe  went  back  to  her  desolate  lodg 
ing  and  brooded. 

"  If  I  had  only  brought  away  my  clothes," 
she  said,  "  I  could  sell  them  and  steal  my 
child.  And  my  jewels — why  they  would  have 
brought  a  small  fortune  !  What  was  I  thinking 


JUSTICE.  8 1 

of  to  leave  them  !  Oh  !  I  was  only  thinking 
then  of  the  child  and  his  little  smile  which  I 
must  not  have  one  hour  in  the  day  !  Now  if 
I  live  on  bread  only  and  work  all  the  time,  I 
cannot  possibly  get  enough  in  a  whole  month 
to  take  him  away." 

On  this  she  brooded  and  it  was  her  ruling 
thought.  After  searching  for  employment,  to 
which  she  gave  all  the  hours  that  remained 
after  her  daily  glimpse  of  the  child,  she  found 
a  little  embroidery  to  do. 

Meantime,  Bowen's  life  was  not  an  enviable 
one.  Notoriety,  the  great  terror  to  men  of 
his  position  and  calibre,  had  come  to  him 
through  none  of  his  offending.  His  house, 
as  far  as  guests  were  concerned,  was  like  a 
house  of  mourning.  His  ambition  had  be 
come  a  mockery,  for  he  felt,  by  every  one's 
demeanor,  and  in  his  own  consciousness,  that 
he  was  as  his  clerical  brethren  had  rendered 
it,  "killed  in  the  church."  The  Bishop  did 
not,  as  Rev.  Mr.  Sallenlawson  had  hopefully 
surmised,  see  fit  to  send  him  to  the  South  Sea 
Islands,  and  he  walked  as  erectly  as  ever  in 
the  chancel,  and  read  the  prayers  as  fault- 


82  JUSTICE. 

lessly..  Still  many  thought  they  saw  the 
change  wrought  in  his  soul  by  suffering,  and 
all  the  ladies  in  the  church  invariably  spoke  of 
him  as  "  poor  Mr.  Bowen,"  when  he  passed. 

About  a  fortnight  after  the  disclosure,  he 
received  an  unpleasant  shock  by  a  letter  from 
the  vestry  requesting  his  resignation,  on  the 
ground  that  his  "  usefulness  had  lately  been 
seriously  impaired."  He  sent  the  letter  with 
out  comment  to  Dr.  McEachirn. 

The  rector  was  very  indignant,  and  had 
warm  words  with  the  vestry  on  the  injustice 
of  such  a  proceeding.  Mr.  Fletcher,  still  more 
incensed,  went  from  one  to  the  other,  found 
that  generally  they  had  some  idea  that  Mr. 
Bowen's  going  away  was  what  people  expect 
ed,  but  never  would  have  signed  the  letter  it 
self  except  that  it  had  been  pressed  by  three  of 
their  number,  who  thought  that  the  late  sen 
sational  episode  had  given  an  unpleasant 
notoriety  to  the  congregation,  and  the  church 
was  crowded  to  the  doors  on  Sundays  with  a 
flock  of  strangers  very  disagreeably.  People 
standing  up  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

"And   that  was  all  the  objection,"  quoth 


JUSTICE.  83 

Fletcher  to  the  rector,  "that  I  could  extort 
from  any  of  them  after  worrying  an  hour  to 
get  it.  This  story  fills  the  church !  It's  not  a 
new  offence  in  Bowen,  filling  the  church.  It's 
just  as  I  thought — those  three  fellows  are  at  the 
bottom  of  it — and  the  next  thing  will  be  to 
have  back  that  infernal  Malthaus  !  " 

To  this  the  rector  assented.  Fletcher  was 
Desperately  bent  on  averting  this  denouement. 

"  For  God's  sake,"  he  said  to  Bowen, 
"  take  no  notice  of  them — they  are  a  parcel  of 
apes — afraid  you'll  be  too  popular  or  notorious 
as  they  call  it,  and  they  want  Malthaus  back 
to  empty  the  church  again." 

After  a  week's  war  between  the  rector  and 
the  three  disaffected  vestry  men,  a  meeting 
was  called  to  reconsider  the  letter  to  Bowen, 
and  he  received  a  notice  that  it  was  recalled. 

But  it  rankled  in  his  soul.  The  fact  that  he, 
suffering  and  innocent,  had  been  summarily 
sacrificed  to  the  accident  of  a  public  scandal, 
or  as  the  letter  had  it,  "  the  disturbance  occa 
sioned  to  all  godly  minds,"  was  not  to  be  for 
gotten.  In  spite  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
power  of  expediency  over  the  minds  of  his 


84  JUSTICE. 

fellow-churchmen,  this  manifestation  of  it  was 
unexpected.  He  had  not  thought  to  be  so 
utterly  forsaken — so  directly  told  that  he  was 
no  longer  wanted — so  absolutely  indebted  to 
the  honor  and  faith  of  Dr.  McEachirn.  It 
depressed  and  galled  him  beyond  expression. 

One  evening  a  little  annoyance  came  to  him 
in  the  shape  of  a  card  brought  by  an  express 
messenger,  on  which  some  clerk  had  written : 
"This  man  has  orders  to  bring  Mrs.  Zoe  L. 
Bowen's  wearing  apparel  and  diamonds  from 
No. street,  immediately." 

Rev.  Fletcher  was  at  tea  with  him,  and  he 
said:  "  Find  out  where  she  lives,  Bo  wen  ;  you 
may  collect  some  evidence  against  her.  Dr. 
Troy  said  if  you  only  could  get  a  divorce,  you 
so  young  a  man,  you  could  out-live  this  thing 
yet." 

Bowen  shook  his  head.  Fletcher  went  in 
the  hall  and  parleyed  with  the  messenger. 
Mary  came  for  orders.  With  some  difficulty 
Mr.  Bowen  inquired  where  were  the  clothes 
and  jewels  that  had  belonged  to  the  baby's 
mother. 

Mary  said  Mrs.  Bowen  had  left  them  all  in 


JUSTICE.  85 

their  usual  places,  but  she  had  since  packed 
them  into  trunks.  She  thought  it  unsafe  to 
send  the  jewel  casket,  as  many  of  the  jewels 
were  very  valuable. 

"  Bring  them  down  here,"  said  Bowen,  and 
by  the  time  Fletcher  came  back  the  gems  were 
arrayed  on  the  tea-table.  Bowen  looked  at 
them  as  though  the  sight  gave  him  pain. 
Fletcher  declared  it  was  too  great  a  risk  to 
send  them  by  the  messenger. 

"We  don't  know  who  he  is;  perhaps  a 
thief.  If  he  steals  these  things,  you  will  be 
held  responsible,  Bowen,  if  you  own  by  send 
ing  them  away  that  they  belong  to  her.  Prob 
ably  they  were  all  stolen  in  the  first  place,  and 
the  owners  may  be  looking  them  up.  These 
women  are  always  in  league  with  pickpockets 
more  or  less." 

"  Send  her  word,"  said  Bowen,  "  that  Mary 
can  bring  the  box  to-morrow.  Where  does 
she  live  ?  Did  you  ask  ?  " 

Mr.  Fletcher  reported  that  it  was  a  poor 
quarter  of  the  city — not  exactly  disreputable, 
except  as  poverty  was  hand-in-hand  with  vice, 
but  out  of  date — down  town — car  line  through 


86  JUSTICE. 

it — pawnshops  about — two-story  and  dormer 
windows  above — very  old  part  of  the  city. 
House  kept  by  a  Mrs.  Johnson — could  not 
find  out  anything  more  about  Mrs.  Bowen 
from  the  messenger. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  is  in  need  of  money,"  said 
Bowen. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  rejoined  Fletchers  "  If 
so,  she  knows  how  to  get  it.  Don't  be  uneasy. 
She  is  not  enough  in  want  to  be  in  any  honest 
business,  for  she  is  strolling  in  this  neighbor 
hood  every  day." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Bowen. 

"  Keeps  about  within  a  few  blocks.  I  have 
it  from  good  authority.  My  wife  says  she 
makes  some  pretence  of  meeting  your  baby 
and  talking  to  it  when  the  nurse  takes  it  out." 

Mary,  who  was  leaving  the  room  with  the 
jewel  casket,  turned  at  the  door,  to  the  aston 
ishment  of  Fletcher,  who  always  ignored  the 
existence  of  a  domestic  in  his  conversation  as 
that  of  a  being  without  ears. 

"  If  you'll  excuse  nie,  sir,"  she  said,  with 
some  spirit,  "  Mrs.  Bowen  never  spoke  to  the 
baby  after  the  first  time ;  but  it's  true  that  she 


JUSTICE.  87 

goes  to  the  park  and  looks  at  him,  a  ways  off, 
every  day.  Mr.  Bowen  bid  Lucy  not  go  to 
that  park  any  more,  but  she  can't  get  a  park 
in  the  city  where  Mrs.  Bowen  don't  go  to  look 
at  the  baby.  I  think  Lucy  had  very  little  to 
do  to  tell  Mr.  Bowen  a  word  about  it.  As 
long  as  he  did  not  know  it,  it  didn't  hurt 
him." 

Triumphant  in  this  argument  and  in  the 
silence  of  her  auditors,  Mary  could  not  resist 
a  final  thrust. 

"  I  must  speak  a  word  for  them  di'monds,  if 
nobody  else  will.  Mr.  Bowen  knows  good 
enough  that  it  was  Mr.  Mar  gave  her  every 
one  of  them,  and  I  shouldn't  think  he'd  sit 
there  and  hear  his  wife  called  a  thief  without 
knocking  a  hole  through  the  man  that  said 
it." 

"  That  will  do,  Mary,"  pronounced  Bowen, 
and  the  girl  with  flushed  face  and  sparkling 
eyes  went  off  to  the  nursery. 

"  That  woman  is  an  accomplice  of  the  other," 
asserted  Fletcher.  "Dear  me,  Bowen,  how 
unfortunate  you  are  at  every  turn.  I  suppose 
Mrs.  Bowen  brought  that  creature  here  !  " 


88  JUSTICE. 

Bowen  felt  obliged  to  defend  the  innocent. 
Mary  had  been  ten  years  in  the  respectable 
household  of  Colonel  Rox,  and  he  said  so. 

As  for  the  girl,  she  expected  nothing  else 
but  dismissal.  She  went  to  the  nursery  and 
began  to  rock  the  baby  unsteadily.  She  heard 
the  front  door  close  after  Mr.  Fletcher,  and 
immediately  after,  Bowen's  step  as  he  came  up. 
He  stopped  at  the  door,  and  Mary  thought  his 
eyes  unusually  stern. 

"Where  is  Lucy?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"Tell  her  when  she  goes  out  with  Eddy  to 
morrow  to  keep  him  in  the  back  garden  ;  he 
must  not  go  outside  the  gate." 

This  was  all,  and  Mary  kissed  the  child  re 
lieved.  By  the  time  Bowen  was  out  of  hear 
ing,  her  indignation  had  kindled  and  found 
expression  half  aloud. 

"That  man's  heart  is  as  hard  as  a  stone 
gate-post.  So  it  is.  Thank  God,  I'm  not 
sent  away  from  the  child.  His  mother'd  go 
crazy  entirely." 

Mr.  Bowen  had  just  received  notice  to  preach 
on  the  ensuing  Sunday,  and  Saturday  being 


JUSTICE.  89 

the  only  day  intervening,  he  was  closely  in  the 
study.  Mary  came  to  the  door  in  the  after 
noon  to  say  that  she  had  gone  to  deliver  the 
casket  of  jewels,  but  neither  Mrs.  Bowen  nor 
Mrs.  Johnson  were  in,  and  after  waiting  some 
time  for  one  of  them,  she  had  thought  best  to 
bring  it  back  again. 

"  You  would  not  have  left  it  with  Mrs.  John 
son?"  asked  Bowen. 

"  I  know  her,  sir — she  was  houskeeeper  for 
Mr.  Mar  and  Mrs.  Bowen,  a  good  many  years. 
She's  a  Quaker  lady,  sir." 

Bowen  went  to  Fletcher's  that  evening,  but 
his  unfinished  sermon  forced  him  to  hasten 
home.  Once  more  in  the  quiet  study,  with 
the  shades  adjusted  and  the  lights  ablaze,  he 
sat  down  by  the  table  and  drew  up  the  papers 
— then  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  partly 
to  banish  the  handsome  eyes  of  Miss  Aurelia 
from  his  memory,  partly  to  compose  his  nerves 
after  his  many  recent  annoyances.  It  was 
never  so  hard  to  apply  himself  to  his  task.  He 
was  so  listless  and  unsettled. 

He  was  roused  from  his  abstraction.  The 
blind  of  the  study  window,  which  on  the  front 


90  JUSTICE. 

came  down  to  the  piazza,  was  pulled  with  a 
resolute  hand.  It  swung  open — the  glass  door 
was  pushed  in — and  someone  entered.  It  was 
Zoe,  but  so  thin,  worn,  and  shabbily  dressed, 
that  Bowen  hardly  knew  her.  There,  was  a 
deadly  glitter  in  her  eyes. 

"  My  God,  woman !  what  do  you  want 
here  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Nothing  to  you.  I  have  come  to  see  my 
child,"  crossing  rapidly  to  the  door. 

"  Stop,"  said  Bowen,  rising  impetuously, 
while  she  was  busy  with  the  key  which  he  had 
turned.  "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  proceed, 
Madam.  You  have  forfeited  all  right  to  enter 
this  house,  or  to  speak  to  anyone  in  it." 

She  turned  to  him  as  he  approached,  and  he 
saw  the  muzzle  of  a  little  weapon.  "  I  will  kill 
you  if  you  meddle  with  me  now,"  she  said. 

Bowen  sighed.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "you 
could  hardly  do  me  a  greater  service." 

By  that  time  Zoe  had  the  door  open.  She 
ran  up  the  staircase  to  the  nursery.  Bowen 
followed  more  deliberately.  Zoc's  tone  had 
turned  to  one  less  desperate  and  more  despair 
ing. 


JUSTICE.  91 

"  Oh,  Mary  !  he  doesn't  know  me  !  Eddy  ! 
don't  be  afraid — won't  you  look  at  Mamma  ? 
It's  Mamma  come  back  to  her  baby  a  little 
while  !  " 

The  child  shrank.  Zoe  said  bitterly,  "The 
work  so  far  is  well  done." 

"  Here,  try  him  with  this,"  said  Bowen,  ad 
vancing  and  taking  off  his  watch.  Zoe 
proffered  it — but  the  child  was  looking  steadily 
and  did  not  notice  the  inducement.  She  laid 
it  aside  and  held  out  her  hands.  The  child's 
blank  face  was  crossed  with  a  gleam  of  recol 
lection — he  got  down  and  tottered  forward — 
said  "  Mamma,"  and  clung  to  her  neck. 

Bowen  went  down  to  the  study,  but  he  could 
not  compose  his  mind  again  to  his  duties.  He 
felt  uneasy  at  the  situation.  Here  was  that 
woman  again  actually  under  his  roof !  He  had 
not  the  heart  to  send  her  away — indeed  it 
would  make  a  terrible  scene  in  her  present  re 
bellious  disposition  ;  and  yet  what  a  position 
for  him  to  be  placed  in  if  anybody  who  knew 
her  should  happen  to  get  hold  of  it.  After  an 
hour  he  sent  for  Mary  and  asked  whether  the 
baby's  mother  was  still  up-stairs. 


92  JUSTICE. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  How  long  is  she  going  to  stay  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  She  says  he  mustn't 
forget  her  again.  She  says  if  she  must  go  now, 
she'll  take  Eddy  with  her.  Shall  I  take  any 
word  to  her  ?  " 

"  No — "  Mr.  Bowen  had  settled  into  resigna 
tion  and  calmness.  "  Let  her  alone." 

The  night  wore  on,  and  the  sermon  pro 
gressed  slowly.  It  was  only  with  the  dawn  of 
day  that  it  was  finished.  He  turned  off  the 
gas  and  went  into  the  low  parlor  fronting  on 
the  garden,  and  throwing  up  the  sash,  sat  down 
in  the  fresh  breeze  of  the  morning.  The  bells 
at  the  Church  of  the  Crucifixion  were  ringing 
out  six  o'clock,  and  the  morning  sun  threw  its 
rays  across  the  Gothic  pinnacles  fronting  that 
cruciform  structure,  and  on  the  luxuriant  grape 
vines  that  mantled  the  garden  wall.  The 
breath  from  a  bed  of  white  and  colored  lilies 
at  the  window  rose  to  his  nostrils  at  the  in 
coming  air,  and  soon  dispelled  the  giddiness 
consequent  on  his  night's  vigil. 

Before  long  there  were  signs  of  life  in  the 
house.  The  door  of  the  kitchen  opened  and 


JUSTICE.  93 

Zoe  came  out.  She  carried  her  hat  in  her 
hand  and  her  shawl  on  her  arm.  It  seemed 
quite  natural  to  see  her  there,  and  Bowen,  as 
he  looked  at  her  was  forced  to  pay  internal 
homage  to  her  indomitable  beauty.  In  spite 
of  the  evidences  of  suffering,  it  was  all  there, 
only  more  delicate  and  sylph  like,  and  in 
sharper  outlines  than  before.  She  hesitated  a 
moment,  then  as  he  did  not  move,  advanced 
and  laid  her  arm  among  the  lilies  on  the  win 
dow-sill. 

"I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  question,"  she 
said. 

"  Allow  me  to  ask  first  if  you  have  any  con 
sideration  for  me  ?  " 

"The  utmost,"  rejoined  Zoe.  "You  fear, 
I  suppose,  that  some  one  may  pass  and  see  me 
here.  It's  the  best  way  to  talk  to  you  outside 
the  house.  People  will  think  I  am  refused  ad 
mission.  That  would  be  according  to  canon, 
and  preserve  you  from  blame." 

"I  think,  to  look  at  you,  one  must  believe 
in  lost  angels,"  said  Bowen.  "  How  infernally 
you  have  swindled  me,  Zoe — does  your  con 
science  never  tell  you  so  ?  " 


94  JUSTICE. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  answered,  "It 
was  you  who  swindled  me." 

"I?" 

"  Yes  ;  did  you  not  preach  in  the  church 
yonder,  that  the  Magdalens  are  saints  of  God 
at  his  right  hand  ?  Either  you  meant  some 
thing  or  you  meant  nothing.  If  you  meant 
nothing,  it  was  a  down-right  swindle,  and  if 
you  meant  something,  then  I  was  justified." 

"  It's  very  proper  for  people  to  repent  and 
to  be  saints,"  said  Bowen,  "  and  to  sit  on  the 
right  hand  of  God,  if  they  can  get  there.  But 
it's  rather  a  lack  of  saintly  humility  while  on 
earth  to  marry  clergymen  of  the  church  as  re 
spectable  women." 

"  Ah  !  we  may  be  saints  of  God,  but  to  the 
dignity  of  clergymen's  wives  we  are  not  to  as 
pire.  I  understand  now ;  but  at  the  time  it 
deceived  me.  I  really  thought  you  meant  it 
all — that  having  altered  my  life,  I  was  a  respect 
able  woman,  and  that  being  good  enough  for 
the  kingdom  of  God,  I  was  good  enough  for 
you." 

"  And  you  were  judge  and  jury  on  that 
point  so  honestly." 


JUSTICE.  95 

"  Did  I  not  offer  to  tell  you  ?  You  refused 
to  hear — and  why  ?  You  remember  why  !  I 
am  sorry  now.  I  see  that  I  should  have  in 
sisted  on  your  knowledge  of  everything. 
Then  all  the  trouble  would  have  been  spared 
to  you,  as  you  would  not  have  married  me." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Bowen,  in 
a  lowered  and  grave  tone. 

Zoe  drew  a  long  breath,  her  color  had  risen 
to  her  temples— she  looked  at  him  undecided 
and  wavering  for  a  minute — then  became  self- 
possessed. 

"And  when  the  exposure  came?  What 
would  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  I  might  have  done  a  dozen  things." 

"You  would  have  done  precisely  as  you 
have  done — abandoned  me  before  men  and 
violated  your  vows  before  God.  It  has  trou 
bled  you  that  I  am  here — now  I  will  never  so 
trouble  you  again  if  you  will  let  me  go  in 
again  and  take  away  my  child.  As  your  wife 
and  his  mother,. you  must  acknowledge  that  I 
have  not  sinned.  Once  gone  you  can  easily 
forget  me  and  the  ruin  I  have  wrought." 

"Take  the  child — what!  away  from  me?" 


96  JUSTICE. 

"You  have  taken  him  away  from  me  and 
kept  him  from  me  for  three  months.  Now  it 
is  my  turn." 

"But  the  child  must  be  considered,  Zoe. 
Are  you  not  willing  to  leave  him  for  his  own 
sake  ?  " 

"  I  would  take  him  from  you  for  his  own 
sake.  Which  is  most  unfit  to  bring  him  up  ? 
you  or  I.  I  ask  no  other  earthly  privilege 
than  to  have  the  whole  care  of  him.  You  are 
contented  to  leave  him  to  a  false  and  ignorant 
hireling  like  Lucy,  and  count  her  moral  in 
struction  and  guardianship  superior  to  that  of 
his  mother.  You  see  him  perhaps  fifteen  min 
utes  a  day  or  not  at  all.  I  do  recognize  your 
right  to  the  child  one-half  the  time,  but  you 
forbid  me  to  see  him  ever.  I  suppose  you  ob 
ject  to  racks  and  thumb-screws — you  imagine 
yourself  to  be  humane — but  the  torture  you 
have  inflicted  on  me  in  separating  me  from  my 
own  flesh  and  blood,  I  would  gladly  have  ex 
changed  for  that  of  the  Inquisition." 

"  I  have  been  entirely  justified  in  the  opin 
ion  of  women  who  are  themselves  mothers  and 
Christians  besides." 


JUSTICE.  97 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  knew  all  the  time  it  was  the 
Christians,"  Zoe  answered,  with  her  eyes 
aflame.  "  I  knew  it  was  they  who  have  made 
me  stand  hours  in  the  street  watching  for  my 
little  baby,  whom  his  Christian  father  sent 
another  way,  lest  I  might  see  him.  Justified 
by  the  Christians  !  Oh  !  such  Christianity  ! 
It  stinks  in  the  nostrils  of  God." 

The  oath  rung  out  round  and  full  from  the 
woman's  lips.  The  scorn  of  her  face  was  su 
perb.  Bowen  felt  powerless  to  utter  any  re 
buke.  Zoe  drew  her  shawl  over  her  shoulders 
to  go. 

"  What  question  did  you  have  for  me  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  and  your  people,  does 
forgiveness  forgive  ?  But  I  won't  ask  it  now. 
I  see  that  I  have  misunderstood  my  offence. 
It  is  not  so  much  that  I  did  wrong,  but  that  I 
tried  to  live  differently — and  did.  My  greatest 
offence  was  in  daring  to  have  a  home  and  to 
be  happy  in  it,  in  being  innocent  among  the 
rest  of  the  world,  instead  of  going  into  a  cell 
to  mourn  forever  in  sack-cloth  and  ashes  away 
from  all  mankind." 


98  JUSTICE. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Bowen,  as  she 
turned  away.  "  I  acknowledge  that  in  one 
point  I  have  done  wrong,  and  I  will  repair  it 
as  far  as  possible.  Mary  shall  bring  the  baby 
to  you  every  day  and  leave  him  with  you  half 
the  time.  Will  that  do  ?  " 

Tears  fell  from  Zoe's  down-cast  lashes  on 
the  lilies.  "  Yes — and  I  am  glad  you  are  so 
far  just.  Will  he  come  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  four  o'clock,  and  I  will  send  for 
him  again  in  the  morning." 

Zoe  stood  irresolutely.  "  I  have  a  confes 
sion  to  make  now.  You  wronged  me  so 
cruelly  in  this  matter,  that  I  meant  to  retaliate 
in  kind.  I  intended  to  sell  my  jewelry  to-mor 
row,  and  then  to  take  the  child  and  go  away 
with  him." 

"  Well — I'll  forgive  you  that— but  don't  har 
bor  any  more  such  wicked  intentions." 

Zoe  bowed  with  a  very  subdued  and  grate 
ful  air,  and  with  that  moved  to  go.  Bo  wen, 
yielding  to  a  sudden  impulse,  took  her  hand, 
and  leaned  forward  to  kiss  her.  She  drew 
back  with  a  look  that  brought  him  to  himself, 
and  walked  away  rapidly,  leaving  him  cursing 


JUSTICE.  99 

his  folly,  in  unspeakable  annoyance,  both  at 
being  so  rebuked  and  at  the  indiscretion  it 
self. 

He  had  not  very  long  to  curse,  as  it  soon 
was  time  for  early  service,  and  his  lecture 
came  off  then.  He  was  glad  that  at  the  high 
ten  o'clock  hour  Dr.  McEachirn  was  to  hold 
forth,  for  he  was  strangely  out  of  sorts.  As 
he  looked  at  the  women  spangled  and  jeweled 
and  bustled,  powdered  and  perfumed,  gazing 
up  so  serenely  over  their  gently  waving  fans, 
at  the  pulpit,  he  turned  away  to  the  vision  of 
that  morning's  outlaw,  her  shabby  attire,  her 
draggled  skirts,  her  face  like  the  dawn. 
How  pure  and  clear  and  unearthly  and  spir 
itual  she  had  seemed  ;  and  yet  how  human — 
how  maternal — how  resentful.  His  mind  held 
distinctly  every  item  of  the  picture,  even  to 
the  frayed  button- holes  on  her  coarse  black 
dress  and  her  rumpled  collar,  and  the  golden 
hair  that  massed  itself  on  her  shoulders  when 
she  walked  away.  And  how  she  had  turned 
from  him — with  what  a  flash  of  the  eye  and 
rapid  step.  Ah  !  not  a  woman  of  all  this  well- 
dressed  multitude,  whose  hands  were  so  heavy 


100  JUSTICE. 

with  jewels,  could  ever  have  framed  so  effectu 
ally  that  telling  execration  pronounced  by  this 
outcast,  judged,  condemned,  yet  utterly  en 
chanting  sorceress,  who  had  gone  with  the  open 
ing  day.  Mr.  Bowen  knelt  in  the  prayers,  and 
stood  in  the  chants,  and  bent  in  the  glorias, 
and  reverenced  the  altar  when  he  went  out, 
but  it  was  all  mechanical.  His  thoughts  were 
far  away. 

That  day  the  child  went  to  see  its  mother, 
and  that  night — though  not  till  it  was  fairly 
dark,  Mr.  Bowen  followed  the  child. 

He  found  Zoe  in  the  front  parlor  of  the 
house  which  was  her  residence.  She  had  been 
busy  all  the  morning,  getting  ready  for  the 
child's  arrival.  At  first,  although  annoyed  to 
find  her  paying  him  so  little  attention,  he  ex 
cused  it  because  she  was  engrossed  by  her 
little  guest;  but  when  the  child  was  rocked  to 
sleep  in  her  arms,  there  was  nothing  to  make 
amends  for  the  strict  but  very  frigid  politeness 
of  her  manner.  She  was  so  evidently  willing 
that  he  should  go  away,  that  Bowen  quitted 
the  house  in  a  tumult  of  chagrin. 

"  Hardly  spoke   to   me — hardly  looked   at 


JUSTICE.  101 

me  !  After  such  a  risk  as  I  have  run  in  going 
to  see  her  !  The  ungrateful  jade  !  " 

On  Monday  Zoe  bought  new.  playthings, 
and  worked  all  day  on  some  little  clothes. 
Four  o'clock,  but  the  child  came  not.  It  grew 
dark  and  still  no  baby.  Mrs.  Johnson  offered 
all  the  consolation  in  her  power.  "  I  think 
thy  husband  will  bring  him  when  it  gets  late 
enough.  Zoe,  thee  must  have  patience." 

This  expectation  Zoe  did  not  entertain,  but 
just  at  tea-time  Bowen  came  in  with  the  child 
in  his  arms.  "Zoe,"  he  said,  "there's  no 
more  miserable  being  on  earth  than  I  am. 
Don't  break  my  heart  entirely — remember  the 
child  is  not  all  you  have  in  life.  Lucy  is  dis 
missed,  and  I  am  going  to  bring  him  to  you 
when  Mary  cannot  come." 

Zoe  could  not  refuse  a  welcome.  She  was 
all  smiles  in  spite  of  herself.  A  child's  high 
chair  was  at  the  tea-table,  which  waited  in  her 
room,  and  a  third  place  was  improvised  for 
Bowen.  It  was  hard  to  say  which  one  of  the 
reunited  family  was  the  happiest.  There  was 
one  drawback.  Zoe  noticed  that  Bowen 
shunned  the  windows  until  the  shades  were 


102  JUSTICE. 

down,  and  that  when  there  came  a  ring  outside 
he  was  a  little  nervous  and  suspended  his 
meal  until  the  door  was  heard  to  close. 

Still  he  came  again,  twice  that  week,  and 
often  through  the  month.  It  was  an  uneasy 
walk,  but  once  there  the  uneasiness  vanished  ; 
for  while  there  he  was  secure  from  detection 
and  loth  to  trust  himself  again  to  the  possible 
eyes  of  the  street.  He  remembered  the 
Scripture,  "  Stolen  waters  are  sweet,  and 
bread  eaten  in  secret  is  pleasant,"  and  saw 
both  force  and  beauty  in  the  proverb. 

In  fact  he  was  desperately  in  love  again  and 
happy  nowhere  else  than  with  his  wife  and 
child.  At  last  he  grew  reckless  in  his  blessed 
contentment  on  this  hidden  hearth,  that  was  so 
sweet  a  reflection  of  what  his  now  dark  and 
desolate  rectory  fireside  once  had  been,  came 
to  it  constantly  and  carelessly,  and  neglected 
business  meetings  about  the  parish  in  an 
inexplicable  manner. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning,  when  this 
state  of  affairs  had  progressed  into  the  second 
month.  Drs.  McEachirn  and  Fosbrook  had 
read  the  communion  service,  and  the  varie- 


JUSTICE.  103 

gated  lights  from  the  Gothic  windows  fell  in 
rich  colors  on  the  surplices  of  Fletcher  and 
Bowen,  who  were  sitting  together  in  the 
stalls. 

"Do  you  know  what  people  say  now?" 
quoth  Fletcher. 

Mr.  Bowen  declared  ignorance,  but  not  with 
out  forebodings. 

"  An  outrageous  slander,  but  they  will  talk 
so  !  Why,  they  say  you  have  been  to  see  your 
wife,  and  in  fact,  that  you  are  living  with  her 
privately.  I  denied  it  on  the  spot.  I  said  it 
was  a  false  and  outrageous  calumny." 

"  Very  glad  you  did  deny  it,"  said  Bowen. 
"  I  trust  you  always  will." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Fletcher,  "  glad  I  can  do 
so  on  your  authority. '  Somebody  goes  to  see 
her,  but  I  knew  it  could  never  have  been  you. 
Come,  we  must  get  the  cups." 

And  the  two  reverend  gentlemen  hied  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  chancel,  and  solemnly 
said  :  "  The  blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
which  was  shed  for  thee  "  more  than  a  hun 
dred  times  over.  Then  Mr.  Fletcher  went  off 
to  his  dinner  and  Mr.  Bowen  back  to  his  study 


104  JUSTICE. 

and  his  conscience.  He  threw  his  hat  and 
gloves  on  the  table  and  said  half  aloud, 

"I  have  lied." 

And  against  Zoe  !  against  a  wife  who  loved 
him  better  than  anyone  else  did  in  the  world, 
through  time-serving  fear  of  those  whom  he 
had  already  seen  were  ready  to  sacrifice  him 
at  whatever  moment  it  should  seem  the  most 
politic  thing  to  do. 

It  was  well  for  him  that  it  had  come  to  the 
issue.  It  forced  him  to  analyze  this  fear.  He 
began  to  excuse  himself  to  his  own  reproving 
soul.  He  said  to  himself  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  the  truth — certainly  the  truth  would  have 
ruined  him.  He  had  lied  to  Fletcher  because 
Fletcher  would  repeat  it  in  good  faith — he 
would  not  have  minded  telling  Fletcher  as  far 
as  Fletcher  alone  was  concerned — nor  Fos- 
brook,  nor  Dr.  McEachirn.  But  they  were 
all  his  friends.  The  world  at  large  was  his 
enemy.  Well — at  all  events  he  had  saved 
himself  through  the  falsehood,  and  it  was  a 
fact  that  he  was  saved — but  then  at  the  ex 
pense  of  being  the  meanest  jackass  in  all 
Christendom. 


JUSTICE.  105 

Some  of  the  inimical  vestry  were  to  dine 
that  day  with  Mr.  Fletcher.  Jeannette  and 
Aurelia  had  extra  hair  to  coil  up  for  the  occa 
sion.  Fletcher  had  brought  home  the  news  of 
Mr.  Bowen's  denial  exultantly.  Jeannette 
carried  it  from  the  cool  hall  up  to  the  region 
of  the  braids  and  switches  where  was  her  sis 
ter.  They  conned  it  over.  Jeannette  said  of 
course — she  had  known  it  was  a  slander  all  the 
time. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Aurelia,  reflectively,  "if 
he  got  a  divorce  from  that  horrible  woman, 
whether  it  would  be  a  sin  to  marry  him  !  " 

At  dinner  the  vestry  men  brought  a  piece  of 
news  that  startled  everybody's  pulse.  There 
had  been  an  election  that  day  for  an  assistant 
rector  in  the  church.  Dr.  McEachirn  had 
asked  for  it  several  weeks  before.  The  vote 
had  just  been  taken,  and  it  was  an  absolute 
fact  that  Mr.  Bowen  had  been  elected. 

Fletcher  hurried  off  to  Bowen  with  the 
news.  He  found  that  gentleman  at  a  solitary, 
gloomy,  and  unusually  late  dinner-table.  Mr. 
Bowen  listened  utterly  astonished.  He  had 
known  of  the  election  indeed,  but  had  not 


106  JUSTICE. 

thought  of  it  as  possessing  the  least  connec 
tion  with  himself.  It  revealed  to  him  that  his 
popularity  had  been  gradually  recovering 
from  the  terrible  shock  of  Zoe's  destroyed 
reputation.  It  was  true  he  had  been  elected 
by  a  majority  of  one  only,  but  it  was  a 
hopeful  sign.  Fletcher  declared  that  Bowcn 
would  undoubtedly  yet  be  rector  of  the 
parish. 

"  When  Dr.  McEachirn  goes  to  heaven,  ( I 
don't  know  that  he  ever  will )  you'll  step  into 
the  place,  naturally,  Bowen.  There  will  be  a 
mere  form  of  an  election — a  necessary  form — 
that's  all.  We  may  count  Malthaus  quite  dead 
now,  thank  God." 

"  It's  inexplicable,"  said  Bowen,  "  I  thought 
I  was  ruined  in  the  church." 

"  So  we  all  thought,  and  two  months  ago,  I 
should  have  said  that  the  congregation,  if 
their  vote  could  have  been  taken,  would  not 
have  agreed  with  it.  But  that's  not  so  to-day. 
The  populace  fluctuates — you  have  half,  cer 
tainly  the  female  half,  in  your  favor,  and  Dr. 
McEachirn,  of  course,  throws  all  his  influence 
with  everybody  in  your  cause." 


JUSTICE.  107 

"  I  know  he  did  on  one  point." 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  now.  He  made  a  little 
address  to  the  vestry  in  which  he  recommended 
you  highly  for  the  office." 

"I  did  not  expect  it — even  from  him." 

"  There  may  be  an  explanation,"  said 
Fletcher  drily. 

"  Please  unfold  it.     I  have  no  idea.'' 

"  Well,  the  doctor's  old — don't  expect  to  live 
long.  He  has  an  unmarried  daughter  whom 
he  would  like  to  see  well  settled.  Fosbrook  is 
a  married  man,  and  so  am  I." 

"  And  what  am  /in  the  name  of  God  ?  " 

"  The  nearest  approach  to  an  unmarried 
man  of  any  of  the  three  !  People  think  you'll 
get  a  divorce — seem  to  expect  it." 

"  And  do  you  imagine  that  they  would  con 
sider  it  a  proper  thing  for  a  divorced  clergy 
man  to  marry  again  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  people  call  your  marriage 
null  and  void  in  the  sight  of  God.  I  honestly 
think  that  if  you  were  not  to  get  divorced  at 
all,  you  might  marry  Miss  Belle  McEachirn 
in  the  church,  and  her  father  would  marry 
you,  and  all  the  congregation  would  attend  the 


108  JUSTICE. 

wedding,  and  nobody  would  arrest  you  for 
bigamy  either.  Men  that  marry  hell-cats  are 
not  married — they  are  only  legally  bound  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Fletcher  !    how  absurd  !  " 

"Not  at  all.  Belle  McEachirn  is  in  love 
with  you.  Aurelia  says  so." 

Mr.  Bowen  had  the  grace  to  blush. 

"  And  you're  a  fool  if  you  don't  go  in  for  a 
divorce.  You'll  have  proof  enough  —  people 
arc  interesting  themselves  to  get  evidence  for 
you.  They  are  watching  the  house  where 
Mrs.  Bowen  lives  to  see  who  goes  in.  As  I 
intimated  this  morning,  she  has  a  visitor." 

At  this  Bowen's  color  gradually  sank.  He 
closed  his  lips  tightly,  and  pressed  on  the  table 
the  end  of  a  pencil  he  contemplated  till  it 
broke.  Fletcher  took  these  for  signs  of  natu 
ral  indignation. 

"  I  watched  the  house  myself  one  night — 
actually  I  did — Fred  Jones  and  I." 

"  The  devil  you  did  !  "  thought  Bowen. 

"  And  we  saw  a  man  go  in  —  very  familiar 
apparently — he  had  a  night-key." 

"What  did  he  look  like?" 

"  It  was  very  dark,  and  we  saw  only  his 


JUSTICE.  109 

back,  but  the  most  rakehelly  subject  you  can 
conceive.  Evidently  a  godless,  worthless,  un 
principled  man  about  town." 

"  Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  and  he  stayed  the  Lord  knows  how 
long.  We  got  tired  of  waiting.  We  walked 
up  and  down  the  sidewalk  for  three  hours  and  a 
half,  and  as  he  didn't  reappear  we  went  away." 

"  Perhaps  he  belonged  there,"  said  Bowen, 
"  a  boarder  or  something." 

"No,  for  my  wife  and  Mrs.  Fosbrook  have 
discovered  that  there  are  no  male  lodgers  in  the 
house — there  is  only  one  man  on  the  premises 
— Mrs.  Johnson's  father — very  old  and  de- 
crcpid.  This  fellow  was  young  enough,  and 
walked  as  though  the  devil  was  after  him. 
Opened  the  door  and  went  through  like  a  flash. 
Such  a  man  as  that  is  enough  to  ruin  the  rep 
utation  of  a  house  for  Mrs.  Johnson,  even  pro 
vided  she  had  ho  such  person  as  poor  Mrs. 
Bou'cn  there." 

Mr.  Bowen's  eyebrows  arched  a  little. 
"  What  took  you  there,  Fletcher?  Had  you 
heard  anything,  or  did  you  do  it  merely  at 
your  own  instigation  ?  " 


no  JUSTICE. 

"Of  myself— not  exactly  either.  Somebody 
had  it  that  you  went  there,  and  I  thought  we 
must  upset  that.  I  knew  at  once  that  half  of 
it  might  be  true  ;  that  it  was  somebody,  we 
were  going  to  make  sure.  If  the  fellow  had 
not  stayed  so  late  we  should  have  seen  him 
face  to  face  —  asked  him  for  a  light  or  some 
thing.  Just  so  that  we  could  have  sworn  it 
was  not  you." 

"And  suppose  your  calculation  had  failed 
Fletcher,  and  you  had  met  me  instead  of  a 
stranger  ?  " 

"  If  I  had,"  said  Fletcher,  very  gravely,  "  I 
should  never  have  breathed  such  an  indiscre 
tion  on  your  part  to  a  living  soul !  You  may 
be  very  sure  of  that !  But  I  should  have  re 
monstrated  with  you  most  earnestly,  and  I 
should  have  thought  you  very,  very  weak  and 
very  wrong ;  indeed,  I  might  say,  very  crimi 
nal  !  " 

Bowen  was  a  little  'stirred.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "  Wrong  ?  Why  isn't  she  my 
own  lawful  wife  ?  Did  I  not  swear  before  the 
altar  of  God  to  forsake  all  others,  and  keep 
only  to  her  so  long  as  we  both  live  ?  How 


JUSTICE.  in 

could  Dr.  McEachirn  after  saying  over  her 
head  that  God  had  joined  us  together,  marry 
me  to  any  other  woman  while  she  lives  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  Bo  wen,  that  will  do  for  you 
to  say  here  to  me,  (only  I  hope  you  won't  say 
it  to  anyone  else)  and  I  would  respect  your 
scruples  about  marrying  another  woman. 
But  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  you  won't  think 
of  going  to  see  her.  You  would  simply  cut 
your  own  throat.  You're  a  young  man  yet 
— you  have  a  long  life  before  you.  Dr.  Mc 
Eachirn  won't  live  a  great  while,  and  by  the 
time  he  dies,  everybody  will  be  on  your  side. 
Then  there's  the  rectorship  and  twelve  thou 
sand  a  year !  Now  don't  throw  away  that 
handsome  and  lucrative  and  influential  position 
for  a  mess  of  pottage.  It's  very  well  in  you 
to  be  sorry  for  Mrs.  Bowen — very  kind  of  you 
to  send  the  child  to  see  her,  (though  a  great 
many  people  have  demurred  about  that),  but 
such  a  woman  at  the  head  of  a  parish  —  why 
look  at  it  ?  think  how  impossible  it  is  !  Now, 
if  you  could  marry  the  rector's  daughter,  or 
any  girl  of  like  position,  it  crushes  out  your 
past  unfortunate  mistake  at  once  !  People 


112  JUSTICE. 

would  have  to  forget  it.  You  are  already  sus 
tained  by  the  ladies  and  you  will  be  rector  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Had  you  thought  of 
going  to  see  Mrs.  Bowen  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  had  thought  of  it,"  said  Bowen. 

"  Then  this  is  my  last  word.  If  you  must 
go — if  business  or  necessity  takes  you,  go  in 
broad  daylight,  see  her  on  the  front  door  step 
and  talk  to  her  there  in  the  eyes  of  all  the 
world,  or  better  still,  take  another  clergyman 
with  you — me  for  instance. 

Rev.  Mr.  Fletcher  left.  Somehow  the  at 
mosphere  had  grown  warm  to  Bowen,  and  he 
opened  all  the  windows  in  the  room. 

That  night  he  did  not  go  out— on  the  con 
trary,  he  saw  at  home  several  members  of  the 
congregation  who  had  called  with  congratula 
tions.  The  next  day  he  was  busy,  and  the 
next  evening  there  was  a  reception  at  the  rec 
tory.  Dr.  McEachirn  had  sent  a  note  advis 
ing  his  attendance,  and  Mr.  Bowen  felt  that  it 
was  only  a  necessary  recognition  of  the  com 
pliment  of  his  late  election  to  show  some  sign 
of  returning  animation.  When  he  went  in,  the 
sight  of  Miss  Belle  McEachirn,  in  a  robe  of 


JUSTICE.  113 

graceful  black,  her  gold  bracelets  and  necklace 
gleaming  through  the  sable  gauze  on  her  full 
neck  and  rounded  arms,  and  her  crimped  blonde 
hair  piled  above  her  forehead,  forced  him  to 
remember  Fletcher's  suggestion,  and  he 
stopped  a  little  wickedly  for  a  few  words  in 
defence  to  that  memory.  Miss  McEachirn's 
good-natured  self-possession  and  her  beaming 
smile  gave  an  early  brightness  to  the  evening, 
and  after  acknowledging  to  himself  that  she 
was  a  very  fine  girl,  indeed,  Bowen  resigned 
himself  strictly  to  the  sedater  side  of  the  as 
semblage. 

He  was  home  late.  The  next  morning  just 
after  he  had  counted  out  and  pocketed  his 
quarterly  salary,  an  express  wagon  came  to 
the  door.  The  expressman  inquired  if  this  was 
the  residence  of  Rev.  E.  C.  Bowen. 

Bowen  who  had  gone  to  the  do.or  inquired 
what  he  had.  The  men  had  brought  home  a 
statue  from  a  sculptor's  studio.  It  was  after 
a  model  by  Mrs.  Bowen.  While  Bowen  was 
debating  with  himself  what  direction  he  should 
give,  the  man  staggered  in  under  the  statue. 
It  was  the  figure  the  model  of  which  Zoe  had 


1 14  JUSTICE. 

shown  him  on  the  day  of  their  engagement. 
On  the  base  was  cut  the  inscription  "  ECCE 
FEMINA." 

It  went  no  farther  than  a  transient  stay  in 
the  hall.  Bo  wen  felt  that  it  was  not  the  thing 
to  reside  in  that  house. 

"Receipt  the  bill  here,"  he  said,  and  take 
the  statue  to  this  address,  handing  the  mes 
senger  a  card.  "  Leave  it  there  for  Mrs. 
Bowen." 

The  wagon  rattled  away  with  the  statue. 
Bowen  brushed  his  hat  and  coat  and  walked 
leisurely  after  it.  At  ten  o'clock  and  in  broad 
daylight,  he  stood  on  Mrs.  Johnson's  door-step. 
The  night-key  which  usually  admitted  him  was 
in  his  watch  pocket,  but  Bowen  restrained 
his  hand  and  rang  the  bell. 

Zoe  sat  in  the  sunny  parlor  close  at  the  front 
window  busy  with  her  needle.  The  baby  was 
sleeping  in  the  shaded  cradle  near  her.  She 
was  dressed  rather  austerely  in  a  plain  black 
jacket  and  walking  skirt,  and  her  hair  was 
braided  behind  each  ear.  There  was  a  hectic 
glow  on  her  cheeks,  and  Bowen  felt  instantly 
an  unusual  gravity  in  her  manner. 


JUSTICE.  115 

"  I  am  glad  you  came  to-day,"  she  said, 
"though  I  was  far  from  expecting  you  at  this 
hour.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  particularly.  " 

Bowen  was  directly  opposite  the  recently  ar 
rived  piece  of  statuary.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on 
it  and  listened.  Zoe  then  proceeded  to  say 
that  she  was  very  deeply  dissatisfied  with  the 
way  in  which  they  had  been  recently  associa 
ting.  Either  Mr.  Bowen  was  doing  a  wrong 
to  the  church  or  to  her. 

"  You  are  considerate  towards  the  church  to 
give  it  a  place  in  the  argument,"  returned 
Bowen. 

"  I  have  undoubtedly  as  little  respect  for  the 
church  as  the  church  has  for  me,"  Zoe  re 
joined  ;  "nevertheless  that  does  not  affect  your 
duties  towards  the  body  to  which  you  publicly 
belong.  You  are  there  with  certain  under 
standings — you  occupy  a  position  which  would 
be  seriously  affected  if  your  visits  to  me  were 
known." 

"  But  I  don't  feel  that  to  be  proper  or  just, 
Zoe,"  said  Bowen.  "  You  are  my  wife  before 
God  and  man." 

"  Then  say  so  before  God  and  man.     Don't 


Ii6  JUSTICE. 

be  bold  before  God  and  ashamed  before  man. 
If  you  cannot  tell  the  church  publicly  that  it  is 
wrong,  and  suffer  its  outlawry,  you  should  con 
form  to  what  it  expects  of  you.  I  have  felt  for 
a  long  time  that  I  was  wrong  not  to  say  this, 
and  have  asked  myself  where  it  will  all  end." 

"  I  do  not  acknowledge  it  to  be  any  one's 
affair,"  said  Bo  wen. 

"  But  your  actions  acknowledge  it." 

"  Well  certainly — it  would  hardly  do  to  have 
it  known." 

Zoe  struggled  with  emotion 

"  Look  at  it  a  moment,"  she  said.  "  Granted 
that  once  I  stole  a  loaf  of  bread.  Well — now  I 
wish  to  be  honest !  I  am  honest !  Is  it  right 
that  my  husband  should  force  me  to  skulk  like 
a  thief  because  it  will  not  do  to  have  it  known 
that  he  associates  with  one  who  is  under  con 
demnation  ?  " 

"  You  once  asked  me  to  go  and  take  a  little 
place  in  the  country,"  said  Bowen.  "  Do  you 
remember  it?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it,"  and  the  color  over 
spread  her  face.  "  Why — do  you  wish  to 
go?" 


JUSTICE. 

Bowen  was  silent. 

"  I  will  answer  for  you,"  said  Zoe.  "  No — 
I  would  not  myself  consent  to  it  unless  you 
were  to  see  the  solid  value  of  such  a  life,  and 
to  urge  it  with  your  whole  heart.  But  you  are 
too  worldly  for  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  your  heart  is  in  the  world — its 
honors  and  its  good  opinion." 

"  The  world." 

"  Well — call  it  the  church,  then — but  it's  the 
world  all  the  same.  You  preach  to  Mammon 
worshippers,  and  preach  to  suit  them.  You 
believe  in  their  creed.  How  does  it  save  you  to 
call  your  God  Jesus,  while  you  see  in  his  tem 
ple  the  very  creatures  he  denounced — and  they 
are  unrebuked  ?  " 

"  Well,  Zoe,  what  do  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

Zoe  trembled  a  little. 

"Not  to  see  you  again,  Mr.  Bowen,  until 
one  of  two  things  shall  happen.  Either  till 
your  church  learns  the  divine  rights  of  a  wife 
and  mother,  from  whatever  misery  she  might 
have  sprung  ;  or  until  you  are  converted  out  of 
the  church  and  theology  and  worldly  prudence, 


Ii8  JUSTICE. 

into  true  manliness  and  Christianity.  So  help 
me  God,  I  will  never  see  you  again  till  that 
hour  comes — and  I  think  it  will  never  come  on 
this  side  the  grave." 

Bowen  went  to  the  mantel  and  rested  his 
head  on  his  hand  with  his  shoulder  toward 
Zoe. 

"  And  we  cannot  part  too  soon,"  said  she. 
"  Suppose  some  one  were  to  ask  you  if  you 
had  been  here  ?  You  would  be  '  ruined,'  as 
the  world  terms  it ;  and  it  is  only  accident  that 
has  saved  you  from  the  question." 

At  this  Bowen  winced  in  the  depths  of  his 
soul. 

"I  feel,"  he  observed,  "that  it  is  all  very 
unfortunate,  but  I  cannot  really  see  how,  in 
coming  here,  I  have  sinned." 

"  By  secrecy.  That's  the  sin.  Separation 
will  not  afflict  us  so  much  as  meeting  this  way 
will  demoralize  us.  Yes — we  must  part — we 
owe  it  to  ourselves  and  honesty — and  the 
sooner  the  better." 

Bowen  felt  that  Zoe  was  right,  and  he  bowed 
assent.  But  she  saw  by  the  pallor  of  his  face 


JUSTICE.  1 19 

when  he  turned  again,  that  he  felt  it  with  pain, 
and  his  voice  had  grown  husky. 

"  You  will  still  live  here  ?  I  can  write  to  you 
occasionally  ?  " 

"  No — the  world  demands  an  utter  renuncia 
tion.  I  must  be  to  you  like  one  dead  hereafter. 
But  there  is  something  else.  I  have  a  favor 
to  ask.  Last  summer  I  was  in  the  country 
with  the  baby — he  ought  to  go  again.  Mrs. 
Johnson  leaves  this  house  next  week  in  charge 
of  her  daughter  and  goes  to  her  sister's,  a  little 
out  of  town.  I  would  like  to  take.  Eddy  and 
accompany  her.  We  shall  return  in  three 
months.  Are  you  willing?" 

"What!  to  be  robbed  of  wife  and  child 
both  at  one  stroke  ?  And  if  I  consent,  how 
can  you  reconcile  that  proceeding  to  honesty  ?  " 

"  Let  it  be  known,"  said  Zoe.  "It  is  im 
possible  to  do  otherwise.  And  allow  me  to 
assure  you  that  the  church  cannot  resent  your 
sending  the  child  out  of  town  with  me  so 
much  as  it  would  resent  your  visits  to  me  here." 

This  Bowen  felt  to  be  true. 

"  The  child  can  go  with  you,"  he  said.  "  How 
soon  ?  " 


120  JUSTICE. 

"To-day.  I  will  lose  no  time.  There  is 
one  thing  more.  I  wish  to  send  my  jewel- 
casket  back  to  you.  As  I  have  no  daughter  I 
would  like  you  to  keep  it  as  a  gift  from  me  to 
Eddy  when  he  is  grown.  I  sold  the  earrings 
that  you  hated  so,  but  nothing  else." 

Bowen  here  mentioned  the  result  of  the  re 
cent  election.  Zoe  looked  astonished. 

"  Is  it  possible  !  I  express  surprise  because 
I  must  tell  you  what  you  have  not  known  be 
fore — there  is  a  rumor  in  circulation  that  you 
have  been  here.  Two  persons  called  last  week 
to  question  Mrs.  Johnson.  She  told  me  so 
this  morning." 

"  Confound  the  meddling  busy-bodies. 
What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  refused  to  answer.  But  if  the  report 
had  become  a  certainty  you  would  not  have  re 
ceived  such  a  promotion.  I  now  perceive  that  it 
could  not  have  gained  credence  anywhere.  It  is 
well  for  your  sake.  Now  be  thankful  that  you 
are  warned  in  time." 

It  was  a  very  quiet  parting,  but  Bowen  went 
home  in  a  wretched  state  of  mind  indeed. 
Mary  came  soon  with  the  casket  of  jewels,  and 


JUSTICE.  121 

a  parcel  of  books.  She  asked  permission  to 
go  with  Mrs.  Bowen  and  the  baby,  and  it  was 
accorded. 

She  departed  in  the  afternoon.  Bowen  had 
locked  away  the  diamonds  and  looked  over 
the  books.  They  were  emanations  from  the 
radical  press,  many  of  them  purely  scientific. 
Zoe  had  collected  what  he  thought  a  censurable 
miscellany  in  her  isolation.  He  opened  one 
and  got  interested,  and  read  on  because  he  was 
interested.  The  book  was  one  he  had  seen 
before  and  quite  despised,  but  he  discovered  in 
the  course  of  an  hour  that  there  was  more 
truth  in  it  than  he  had  expected  to  come  out 
of  Nazareth. 

The  following  day  lie  left  town  to  see  his 
widowed  aunt  and  request  her  to  take  charge 
of  his  lonely  household.  He  could  not  leave 
it  longer  without  a  mistress,  especially  as  it 
might  be  necessary  for  him  to  keep  open  house 
again.  This  Fletcher  commended  as  a  very 
wise  step,  and  the  arrival  of  the  lady  completed 
his  satisfaction. 

The  child's  departure  with  its  mother  was 
speedily  known  about  the  parish  ;  but,  as  Mr. 


122  JUSTICE. 

Fletcher  soon  discovered,  it  was  a  step  forgiven 
to  Mr.  Bovven  by  all  the  ladies,  in  considera 
tion  of  the  well-known  fact  that  Mrs.  Bowen's 
health  had  failed  greatly,  and  that  it  was  highly 
probable  this  would  be  her  last  summer. 
Much  patience  could  be  felt  for  a  woman  who 
promised  to  be  so  shortly  out  of  everybody's 
way.  But  this  state  of  affairs  Bowen  himself 
did  not  realize.  He  had  seen  Zoe  during  the 
hours  that  that  most  insidious  of  all  diseases, 
consumption,  left  its  lightest  trace,  and  that  he 
was  not  aware  of  her  illness,  was  something 
which  the  congregation  did  not  suspect. 

The  summer  wore  away.  It  was  for  Bowcn 
the  saddest  season  of  his  life.  He  stayed 
closely  in  town  While  the  other  clergy  and  the 
bulk  of  the  congregation  had  gone  to  their 
various  summer  haunts,  and  followed  the  usual 
routine  of  services,  generally  with  an  audience 
of  strangers,  for  many  of  the  neighboring 
churches  were  absolutely  closed.  He  missed 
the  child's  presence  in  the  house,  and  his  oc 
casional  letters  to  Zoe  were  like  epistles  written 
to  the  dead,  for  they  brought  no  answer. 

Of  her  return  to  the  city,  in  October,  he  was 


JUSTICE.  123 

first  made  aware  by  the  appearance  of  Mary 
with  the  baby  on  the  familiar  threshold. 

The  child  was  ruddy  and  strong,  and  Bowen 
/ejoiced  in  his  improvement.  Mary,  when 
questioned,  said  that  Mrs.  Bowen  was  well  as 
usual,  and  further  than  that  he  did  not  ask. 
Things  returned  to  their  old  order.  Mary 
daily  took  the  child  to  Mrs.  Johnson's,  and  it 
seemed  always  so  to  happen  that  wjienever 
the  weather  was  wet  or  severely  cold  the 
baby  was  on  his  mother's  side  of  the  gulf,  and. 
in  reality  it  was  to  his  father  that  he  made  the,' 
daily  call. 

But   by  this  time   the  man  had  grown  re 
signed  to  the  situation.     Indeed  he  was  now  • 
very    busy.       A    double    responsibility    was 
thrown  into   his   hands  by  the  illness  of  Dr. ' 
McEachirn,  and  his  death,  which  soon  followed, 
was  an  event  of  too  great  importance  to  leave 
Mr.  Bowen  or  his  reverend  confreres  time  to 
think  of  the  living. 

There  was  a  great  funeral  of  course — a 
thronged  church  and  hundreds  unable  to  enter. 
The  Bishop  preached  the  sermon,  which  did 
due  honor  to  the  great  merits  of  the  deceased 


124  JUSTICE. 

and  the  special  graces  with  which  he  had  been 
endowed  both  by  nature  and  by  Providence. 
His  learning,  his  humility,  his  gentle,  affec 
tionate  and  retiring  nature,  were  done  full  jus? 
tice  to.  Those  who  knew  Dr.  McEachirn 
well,  shed  tears  at  the  rehearsal — they  recog 
nized  the  side  of  his  character  that  had  been 
presented.  Its  more  human  aspect  was  for 
gotten  then. 

The  week  of  excitement  having  passed  by, 
the  next  thing  was  the  election  of  a  successor. 
Everybody  said,  "  Mr.  Bowen."  Some  said, 
"  Bowen,  of  course."  Many  more  said,  "  It 
might  be  Mr.  Bowen  if — ."  More  than  all 
were  those  who  said,  "  Mr.  Bowen,  I  hope, 
but  I  fear  not.  He  is  in  such  an  unfortunate 
,  position  ! " 

Mr.  Bowen  himself  was  not  sanguine. 
There  had  been  no  anticipation  to  temper  his 
unaffected  regret  at  the  loss  of  such  a  friend  as 
he  had  had  in  the  late  rector.  To  the  more 
hopeful  Fletcher  he  expressed  himself  thus  : 
"  Dr.  McEachirn  died  five  years  too  soon  for 
me,  Fletcher.  I  do  not  expect  under  the  cir 
cumstances  to  win  the  election." 


JUSTICE. 


125 


Fletcher,  whose  zeal  for  Bowen  grew  warm 
as  the  terrible  vision  of  Malthaus  at  the  head 
of  the  parish  grew  imminent  as  the  alternative, 
canvassed  with  assiduity  for  his  friend,  and 
with  increasing  earnestness  as  the  hour  ap 
proached. 

It  wanted  one  week  of  the  election.  The 
vestry  had  appointed  the  next  Monday  even 
ing  for  their  final  conclave.  Mr.  Bowen  was 
in  the  church  examining  into  the  merits  of 
new  patterns  in  candlesticks,  which  were  to  ap 
pear  for  the  first  time  in  silver  and  gold  among 
the  Easter  adornments.  Fletcher  came  in  un 
usually  excited  and  in  frantic  haste.  He  took 
Mr.  Bowen  off  from  a  discussion  with  the 
senior  warden. 

"  Bowen,  I  have  news  for  you.  You  are  a 
free  man  again." 

"  Good  heavens.     Is  Zoe*  dead  ?  " 

"  No — not  yet.  They  say  she  is  dying,  but 
that  is  doubtful.  But  aside  from  that  you  are 
liberated.  She  has  another  child  born  within 
the  week.  Mrs.  Fletcher  had  it  from  Susan 
Rogers." 


126  JUSTICE. 

Bowen  stood  as  though  a  thunderbolt  had 
fallen  at  his  feet. 

"  See  how  the  wicked  destroy  themselves," 
said  Fletcher  enthusiastically.  "  Here  this 
woman  has  been  followed  and  watched  and 
reported  upon  for  months  all  to  no  purpose. 
Providence  comes  in  to  detect  guilt  when  all 
other  means  fail." 

Bowen  thought  no  more  about  the  candle 
sticks,  but  left  the  vestry  to  settle  the  patterns 
among  themselves. 

It  was  well  toward  sunset.  He  hurried  to 
his  study,  opened  his  desk  and  took  out  a  little 
night-key  locked  up  for  many  months — then 
he  hurried  off  to  Mrs.  Johnson's.  That  ven 
erable  female  was  just  lighting  up  the  hall. 

"  How  is  Zoe  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Zoe  will  suffer  very  little  more  in  this 
world,"  replied  Mrs.  Johnson.  "Dr.  Kass 
brought  two  physicians  here  to-day  and  none 
of  them  give  us  any  hope.  Dr.  Kass  wanted 
thee  to  feel  satisfied  with  his  efforts.  It  is  the 
same  room.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  thce." 

The  interview  between  the  dying  woman 
and  her  husband  lasted  over  two  hours.  It 


JUSTICE.  127 

was  the  same  Zoe,  altered  only  as  the  disease 
and  mental  suffering  of  a  year  had  done  their 
work.  But  the  eye  and  smile  betokened  an 
unaltered  soul. 

When  he  left  he  said  to  Mrs.  Johnson  that 
he  would  return  in  the  morning. 

There  were  early  prayers  to  be  read.  This 
was  his  duty,  as  Fosbrook  was  ill  and  Fletcher 
away.  When  Bowen  returned  to  the  house 
he  found  Mary  crying  in  the  hall.  She 
handed  him  a  card,  on  which  was  written  : 
"  Mrs.  Bowen  died  at  six  this  morning.  With 
sympathy  yours,  Julian  Kass." 

With  a  face  as  white  as  ashes  Bowen  read 
this  note,  then  locked  himself  into  the  study. 
Meantime  the  news  was  flying  over  the  parish. 
Fletcher  drove  in  from  the  country  at  noon. 
He  had  expected  it. 

"  It  has  happened  just  at  the  right  time  for 
Bowen  ?  "  said  he.  "  Now  if  that  woman 
could  be  buried  to-day,  and  he  would  engage 
himself  to-morrow  to  Belle  McEachirn,  and  an 
nounce  it  on  Sunday,  he  would  go  into  the 
rector's  shoes  on  Monday  as  surely  as  the  sun 
rises." 


128  JUSTICE. 

When  Fletcher  called  to  see  Bowen  he  found 
that  gentleman  with  Dr.  Kass,  who  was  ar 
ranging  for  the  burial.  He  felt  delicate  about 
saying  much  before  a  third  parfy. 

"  Shall  you  go  to  this  funeral  ?  "  he  asked 
of  Bowen. 

"  It  is  to  be  from  this  house." 

•• 

"That's  impolitic,  Bowen.  Better  let  it 
come  off  quietly  at  the  Quaker's,  and  let  me  or 
somebody  go  down  in  gown  and  bands  and 
read  the  service." 

"That  would  not  be  in  accordance  with 
Mrs.  Bowen's  wishes,"  pronounced  Dr.  Kass. 
"She  gave  me  directions  before  seeing  her 
husband." 

Fletcher  had  interrupted  a  conversation  be 
tween  Bowen  and  the  physician.  "  Dr.  Kass 
could  only  add  a  few  words  at  the  front  door, 
to  which  Bowen  accompanied  him. 

"  I  advise  you  strongly  against  it.  You 
would  only  ruin  yourself  forever  and  do  the 
dead  no  earthly  good." 

The  next  news  was  that  Zoe's  youngest  born 
was  to  be  adopted  by  Mr.  Bowen  and  educated 
with  the.  other  child.  At  first  Fletcher  was 


JUSTICE.  129 

daunted  by  what  he  feared  was  an  evil  meas 
ure,  but  he  soon  had  his  cue  from  the  promi 
nent  ladies  of  the  congregation. 

"It's  magnanimous!  that's  the  word  ex 
actly.  Bowen's  treatment  of  that  poor  wretch 
has  been  magnanimous  all  the  way  through, 
only  unfortunately  thrown  away  on  such  a  sub 
ject." 

And  so  well  did  Mr.  Fletcher  convey  this 
opinion  about  the  congregation,  that  the  word 
"magnanimous"  went  home  in  a  hundred 
mouths  after  evening  service. 

The  notes  of  the  last  chant  had  died  away, 
and  the  choir,  practising  for  the  Easter  ser 
vices,  had  gone  from  the  organ  loft.  As  the 
last  member  of  that  quartette  was  quitting  the 
church  he  preceived  one  of  the  clergy  enter 
through  the  vestry  room.  It  was  Mr.  Bowen. 
He  crossed  through  the  eastern  aisle,  and 
stood  before  the  alter.  The  witness  saw  him 
kneel,  and  quietly  retired. 

The  man  on  his  knees  gazed  long  at  the 
altar,  at  the  dim  outline  of  the  Easter  candles 
by  the  Bishop's  chair,  at  the  painting  of  the 
triple  crucifixion  overhanging  all  and  lit  by  the 


130  JUSTICE. 

rays  of  the  moon.  Somehow  this  atmosphere 
he  had  breathed  so  many  years  in  contentment 
had  grown  stifling,  and  a  flame  that  once 
glowed  here  with  celestial  brightness,  had 
turned  to  ashes.  In  that  hour  the  veil  fell 
from  his  eyes  !  He  looked  beyond  the  altar 
to  a  God  so  little  known  before — the  God  of 
Truth  and  Justice,  by  Christ  revealed — by 
Paul  declared,  and  in  the  contemplation,  high 
as  the  stars  and  wide  as  the  universe,  he  felt 
like  one  who,  near  the  mouth  of  a  narrow  river, 
looks  out  on  the  high  seas.  One  of  those 
struggles  which  end  only  with  the  soul's  life  or 
death  was  going  on  within  him,  and  it  was  in 
vain  to  linger  in  this  temple  of  the  world  for 
aid. 

He  rose  with  a  sigh  and  went  back  to  his 
study  and  his  own  reflections.  Here  he  paced 
the  floor  hour  after  hour,  and  the  angel  strug 
gled  with  the  devil  till  the  night  was  gone. 

He    had   said   to    Zoe   in   her  last  hours : 

"  Live  for  my  sake  and  the  children's  ! 
Hereafter  I  will  live  for  you." 

And  she  had  answered:  "  Hereafter  you  can 
live  for  something  better  than  for  me — justice." 


JUSTICE.  131 

And  these  words  rang  continually  on  the 
divine  side  of  his  human  soul. 

And  on  the  other  side  spoke  the  voice  of 
the  world  strongly  against  it.  "  You  would 
only  ruin  yourself  forever  and  do  the  dead  no 
earthly  good." 

The  next  morning  the  congregation  had  for 
a  topic  of  discussion  the  following  notice  in 
the  death  column  of  a  daily  paper  : 

"  March  2ist.,  Zoe  L.  Bovven." 

"No  funeral  services.  Interment  from  the 
residence  of  Rev.  Edwin  C.  Bowen,  to-day  at 
one  o'clock." 

Not  one  exclaimed  "  Heathenism."  Nearly 
everybody  considered  it  a  very  proper  thing. 
The  ladies  thought  it  very  evident  that  Mrs. 
Bowen  had  died  as  she  had  lived,  impenitent 
and  contumacious.  Mr.  Bowen  had  treated 
her  too  nobly  to  allow  any  one  to  suppose  he 
would  not  have  added  Christian  burial  to  the 
list  of  his  mercies,  had  rubrical  law  permitted 
him  to  do  so  without  absolute  sacrilege. 

That  morning,  after  service,  Messrs.  Fos- 
brook  and  Fletcher,  with  several  of  the  vestry, 
met  in  Mr.  Bowen's  parlor.  That  gentleman 


132  JUSTICE. 

evidently  had  not  slept.  They  all  proceeded 
to  Mrs.  Johnson's  in  a  body.  Fletcher  hold 
ing  Bowen's  arm,  dilated  all  the  way  on  his 
entire  satisfaction  with  the  different  denoue 
ments. 

"  Get  this  business  over  and  the  next  thing 
is  your  election.  Malthaus  won't  bother  us 
on  the  vestry,  for  he  has  had  a  quarrel  with  his 
uncle  here  who  has  just  told  me  he  shall  vote 
for  you.  Malthaus  is  sick  in  bed  about  it. 
You  are  as  good  as  elected  at  this  moment. 
Everybody  cries  up  your  mercy  to  this  woman. 
They  say  she  ought  to  feel  it  in  her  grave." 

Bowen  did  not  reply.  They  reached  the 
door  of  Mrs.  Johnson's  house,  and  he  led  the 
way  in.  -The  parlors  were  dark  as  the  shut 
ters  were  closed.  Mrs.  Johnson  sat  near  the 
door  with  an  open  Bible. 

The  close  room  was  fragrant  with  flowers. 
They  were  piled  over  the  coffin  where  Zoe's 
white  features  were  visible  in  the  repose  of 
death.  The  statue,  with  its  thorny  coronet 
and  conspicuous  label,  stood  out  in  bold  relief 
from  the  curtains.  In  the  little  cradle  where 
Eddy  had  so  often  lain  was  a  sleeping  infant, 


JUSTICE.  133 

its  little  hands  closed  each  side  of  its  uncon 
scious  face. 

"  The  flowers  came  as  thee  said,"  re 
marked  Mrs.  Johnson.  "  I  thought  we  would 
put  some  of  the  sweetest  of  those  white  roses 
in  the  coffin." 

"No,"  said  Bowen,  "there  is  nothing 
sweeter  than  her  face." 

The  child  stirred  and  gave  an  uneasy  little 
moan.  Bowen  took  up  the  infant  in  his  arms, 
solemnly,  as  he  had  taken  many  another  at  the 
baptismal  font.  The  rectorship,  and  twelve 
thousand  a  year,  and  the  honors  of  the  great 
church  at  large,  flitted  before  the  man's  eyes, 
only  to  perish  into  nothingness  before  the  face 
of  that  absolute  truth  whose  disciple  he  that 
day  became.  As  he  uttered  the  next  words 
which  sealed  his  sentence,  he  felt  that  he  was 
exchanging  something  very  small  for  some 
thing  very  great. 

"  I  CANNOT  ALLO*W  YOU  TO  BELIEVE  THAT 
THE  WOMAN  BEFORE  YOU  IS  OTHER  THAN 

INNOCENT.    GENTLEMEN,    THIS    CHILD    is 

MINE." 


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